


Return to Oz

by nightmares06, PL1



Series: Brothers Together [4]
Category: Supernatural, The Borrowers - All Media Types
Genre: Borrower Sam, G/T, Gen, Giant Dean, Height difference, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Protective younger brother, Siblings, Size Difference, TINY - Freeform, Tiny sam, big dean, giant, knights inn, protective older brother, the borrowers crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-11-30 13:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 45,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11464980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmares06/pseuds/nightmares06, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PL1/pseuds/PL1
Summary: Oscar lost the only friends he’d ever found over a decade ago. He’s learned to survive on his own, brief reminders of Sam and Dean keeping him company along with the mice who share the walls with him.Yet Sam and Dean, though they may have forgotten where he lives, out of the hundreds of motels they’ve been to, never forgot their Oz.





	1. The Man That Gives Monsters Nightmares

"So, what do we know about this creep?"  
  
Sam frowned as he thought over the case files he'd reviewed the night before. Dean had been out for the night, leaving Sam with the laptop while he went to a bar to build up their supply of backup cash.  
  
"Three bodies, two this month and one the last," Sam said aloud, not worried about Dean hearing him.  
  
After all, he was sitting right on the hunter's shoulder. Grey cloth bag slung at his side, Sam made relaxing on a shoulder look perfectly natural. One of his legs dangled casually off of the edge, the other drawn up close, the rubber sole of his boot finding traction on the Henley shirt Dean was wearing under his jacket. The boots were repurposed from a dollhouse set, one of the high-quality ones, and were well-worn, just like his bag.  
  
The collar of Dean's jacket was stiff, and Sam occasionally leaned against it. Otherwise he used the hunter's neck for support, glad for the heat radiating from it.  
  
"Authorities are blaming animal attacks, but chances are if any animals were interested in the bodies, they'd have gone for more than just the hearts."  
  
Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he listened. Sam could feel the tensing of muscles under him as the massive arms responded to the hunter's movements. It never bothered him, after so many years at this size, but the thought of how powerful his older brother had grown up to be never ceased to amaze him.  
  
Dean had, after all, become the man that monsters had nightmares about.  
  
Not many people, hunters or otherwise, would guess that a lot of the reason for Dean's success as a hunter didn't have anything to do with his strength and how adept he was with weapons, though that did help quite a bit. No, it had to do with the fact that he had a certain four inch hunter backing him up. Sam could put together clues and see details that everyone else overlooked. They watched out for each other, and never let each other down.  
  
Only a few other humans knew about Sam. Their dad's old friends, Caleb and Pastor Jim were some of the lucky few. Of course, Bobby Singer not only knew about Sam, he had a small home set up on a bookshelf for the small hunter when they stopped in. He'd been there that first week of Sam's curse, helping John hunt down the witch to blame for Sam’s reduced stature.  
  
They'd never found her, and Sam had to learn to live with his new size. It wasn't all bad. He had Dean to count on, even though his brother was now _obnoxiously_  tall, and he had the opportunity to learn more about people like him when they met up with a young boy named Oscar while their dad was on a hunt.  
  
When their dad returned to the room that fateful week, he'd unceremoniously hauled them both to the Impala. Dean had stalled him just long enough for Sam to write a small note to their friend Oscar, hating every second of it.  
  
He'd wanted to take Oscar with them.  
  
The boy was, after all, only  _eight years old_. He'd lost his mother the year before and survived by sheer grit and determination, and both brothers had wanted to help him out. Take him somewhere safe to live, like Bobby's. Anywhere he could get more help would be better than facing such a big world all by himself.  
  
Those plans came to a crashing end. All they'd been able to do was shove the last of the food they had in the vent, and leave the note with it. A quickly scrawled apology from Dean finished it off, his huge, blocky lettering taking up the entire back of the tiny slip of paper in a simple  _Sorry, Oz._  
  
And then they'd left.  
  
Sam found himself wondering what had happened to his friend. Oscar was a determined kid, he wouldn't have given up after making it on his own for so long.  
  
After that encounter, Sam had found others of his size in the most unexpected places. Some lived in motels like Oscar, some lived in houses. More than once he'd been able to coax information out of them about a case, helping to save both human lives and 'little' lives, the name Bobby had given them (Dean continued to insist on ‘Borrowers’). The gruff older hunter had even revealed, after the encounter with Oscar, that he'd had run-ins with 'littles' before. Once, even at the bed and breakfast that had become the  _Trails West Motel._  
  
The place where Sam had been cursed.  
  
One day, he was considering asking Dean if they could make a side trip to that motel again. Maybe there was a reason he'd been cursed at that specific place. If there were others his size around, maybe the witch had been working there for years.  
  
The last place he'd expected to find people his size had been the field at Bobby's. Yet they were there, living in an old rabbit warren. It was cozy and insulated, and he'd been amazed the first day he'd discovered it. Rumsfeld, Bobby's newest guard dog for the junkyard and one of Sam's best friends, had caught him off guard one day. He'd been goofing off with Dean busy fixing the Impala, and out of nowhere the dog had darted into the fields, Sam in tow.  
  
Even after the shock of discovering that he had a human brother, he'd been welcomed into the small community. They had a hesitant truce with the hunters Dean and Bobby, allowing them to come around so long as they kept a distance from the burrow, and promised to never pick anyone up unless they specifically asked for it. Sam had spent more than one day out there, learning new skills and trading stories with people his own size. They'd even let Dean come out one warm summer's night, and included him in the storytelling. More and more, he was being accepted as he was, despite the fact that while none of them topped Sam's 4 inches, Dean stood a towering 6'3".  
  
Imposing as he was, Dean would never use his size against them. He and Bobby considered them regular people, and treated them the way they deserved. Dean had grown up with Sam at his side, and knew how to handle himself with littles more than any other human alive.  
  
"We've got two days left in the lunar cycle after today, right?" Dean asked. The rumbling voice derailed Sam's line of thought and drew him back to the present.  
  
"Uh..." Sam blinked as he thought back to his research. "Yeah. It ends on Wednesday, so we need to find the killer before then. And the killing last month happened during the lunar cycle too."  
  
"Awesome," Dean said, and Sam didn't need to see the grin on his face to know it was there.  
  
Leaning back into the crook of his older brother's neck, Sam rolled his eyes. "You are such a geek when it comes to werewolves."  
  
"Hey!" Dean protested. "I can't help it. What's more badass than a freak killing machine by night? We already know how to kill the suckers, and all we gotta do is track it down. Easy as pie."  
  
Sam rolled his eyes on principal, but had a wide grin on his face as he leaned back. He propped up both his legs and stretched his arms behind his head. The signs on the road passed them by, pointing the way to Breckenridge, Colorado. He listened to Dean with half an ear, smiling to himself as the older hunter rambled on about their last hunt with a werewolf. Sam had provided a distraction back then, confusing even a werewolf in a blood-frenzy just long enough to put a silver bullet through its heart.  
  
They were a team, and they'd always be a team.  
  


* * *

  
The Impala rolled into town just twenty minutes later.  
  
Dean drove around the area, making sure to mark down in his mind the location of landmarks and important buildings. The police precinct he'd need to drop by soon and see if he could gather any more intel for them to work with, and of course the Gas 'n Sip was all important for later on that night when they sat down to grab a quick drink. There was one motel in the area, the  _Knights Inn,_  and he pulled the car into a spot.  
  
Sam took his place in a front chest pocket, staying quiet and out of the way while they were around other humans. Though he'd been seen by victims and others from time to time, it was best to keep him from public knowledge. If the wrong person spotted him, he could reveal the existence of others his size, putting their friends in danger.  
  
It only took a few minutes to check in. Dean thanked the receptionist with a warm smile, giving her a casual wink before heading back out to the car. If they wrapped up this case quick, he might even have time to spend around town before they headed out.   
  
Sam wouldn't mind. It would give him a chance to scout the area, check out the walls of the motel to see if there was anyone around. It was their standard routine, whenever they got the chance.  
  
Dean moved the Impala around to their new room, parking right out front. He didn't bother taking Sam out of the pocket just yet. It was the nightly check-in time and other people were out and about, unpacking cars or just meandering around the sidewalk.  
  
He dug his duffel bag out from the backseat, frowning at the area as he took it all in. It seemed so... familiar. Like they'd been there before. Maybe it was one of the places their dad had dropped them off. After so many different rooms and different towns, they all started to blend together.  
  
Shrugging off the feeling, Dean headed for the room. They had work to get to, and people to save. The heavy duffel rattled against his back. Aside from the silver bullets and his trusty Colt tucked into his pants, he had a supply of salt packed away along with his sawed-off shotgun, Sam’s belongings (including a small bed they’d repurposed from the same dollhouse set as his boots), and other various weapons, first aid supplies and the like. The cooler in the car had some snacks and beers, and he’d have to grab it afterwards, but first he wanted to get Sam secure. They’d long since discovered it was a bad idea for Dean to juggle too many items at once while the small hunter was hanging with him.  
  
The key jingled in the old-fashioned lock as Dean opened up the door, and the light from the setting sun spilled into the room, so that Dean’s shadow loomed across the floor. “Home sweet home,” he muttered down to his pocket with a wry grin. Tacky bedspreads covered both beds, and old paintings on the walls of knights in shining armor set the atmosphere for the  _Knights Inn_.  
  
Dean stepped over the threshold, tossing his duffel onto the bed as he peered around the room in search of a lightswitch. Brief memories of a similar room teased his mind, but he pushed them aside. They’d been in motel rooms from one side of the continental United States to the other, and the chance of them staying in the same motel more than once-- or even the same  _town_  more than once-- was low.  
  
Sam pushed up the flap of Dean’s pocket with them out of sight of any other humans, but he didn’t get a chance to say much. Dean was steadily scanning the room for the lightswitch, and movement caught his eye. A darker blob on the floor darting for the dresser.  
  
Now, Dean didn’t have his brother’s keen eyesight in the dark. He’d relied on Sam more than once to help guide him on a case. It was a huge asset. After years of learning to navigate the walls of various houses and motels, Sam’s eyes were better in the dark than anyone else they knew.  
  
But Dean’s sense were still hunter-keen, dark or not.  
  
The movement of the blob made him lunge for the switch on the wall, and the light flared on overhead. Dean’s eyes adjusted to the bright light faster than Sam’s ever could, and his swift movements sent his younger brother tumbling down into the depths of his pocket.  
  
And then Dean was sweeping a hand towards the little shape that was running for cover.  
  


* * *

**SUPERNATURAL**

* * *

****

 

[Artwork by Mogadeer](http://mogadeer.tumblr.com/)


	2. You're Safe Here

The tiny shape running along the ground didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of reaching cover. Dean’s hand swept under it, curling around the tiny body. His fingers closed around the squirming form, effortlessly trapping it in a fist while the quietest squeak made it out of the small figure.  
  
Dean stood back up to his full height, straightening as he lifted his hand to chest level. A perpetual frown settled on his face as he realized what he’d caught, and it wasn’t dangerous to them like his first assumption had barked at him.  
  
Uncurling his fingers slightly so he could see into the tiny space in his hand, Dean peered in. The sight that awaited him confirmed his fears.  
  
A tiny guy, small enough to be just a kid, was curled into a terrified ball. Little arms thinner than Sam’s did their best to cover the back of his neck.  
  
The sight brought back so many memories for the hunter. His size alone was enough to terrify a person that stood Sam’s size, and he hated it. He never wanted to scare them. They were small, and they were different from humans, but they  _weren’t dangerous._  All his life since Sam had lived under his curse, Dean had done his best to help them when he could.  
  
Yet here he was, once again terrifying a kid.  
  
“Whoa, hey there little guy,” Dean said. His brow was furrowed with concern as he stared down at the shivering, balled-up form on his palm. He opened up his fingers more, giving the kid some air as he cowered. Such a small kid would have no way of knowing that the human that caught him was actually safe. Dean didn’t give off a good first impression with his hunter-trained instincts.  
  
Sam was his only hope in most situations. The small hunter’s easygoing ways and gentle, trusting nature could win hearts over. Dean had no idea what he’d do without his little brother, and never wanted to find out. Even humans responded to Sam’s words, enamoured with the little guy that stood no taller than Dean’s fingers. The fact that the imposing hunter responded to Sam’s words without argument most times helped as well, dispelling the common belief that Sam was  _trained_  to act the way he did with his older brother.  
  
That was one line of thought Dean despised more than anything. The idea that he would  _train_  Sam to go into the walls and root out others of his size for capture. He wouldn’t even  _dream_  of such an act, and swore to himself that if he ever found anyone trying it, he’d teach  _them_ a lesson they’d never forget.  
  
Ever.  
  
Worried when there was no reaction to his words, Dean lifted his hand closer to his eyes. His gaze skated over the fragile person cupped in his hand, a lifeline longer than the little guy's body stretching out underneath where he was collapsed. Small, dexterous hands clasped protectively over a vulnerable neck, trying to guard against being hurt. Little fingers that Dean almost couldn’t make out shivered as the tiny guy tried to protect himself.  
  
Of course, against a human that was a useless gesture.  
  
Luckily for the kid cowering on Dean’s palm, he wasn’t in any danger of being hurt. He just didn’t know he was safe, and Dean needed to find a way to make sure he hadn’t already been injured. Dean's heart dropped at the thought that his unthinking, instinctive reaction to finding someone sneaking around in his room might have hurt someone so small and vulnerable.  
  
“It’s okay, you’re safe now, I promise,” Dean said in a cautious whisper. He regretted his instinctive grab moments ago. “Did I hurt you?” He was aware of a shifting in his chest pocket while he talked.   
  
Sam pushed up the flap at last, recovered from Dean’s swift movements beforehand. After so many years spent with Dean at his cursed size, he was never surprised to be tossed down into the pocket. He was more familiar with the way Dean moved than even the hunter could be, and understood the necessity. Those movements had become his entire world after his size was snatched away from him.  
  
When there was no answer forthcoming, Dean chanced a restrained touch against one of the skinny arms. The pad of his finger brushed against an elbow. The contact was so light, he couldn’t feel it himself, but the small body rocked in place from his touch.  
  
The little body shifted at that touch, and Dean let out a breath as a tiny hand planted against his finger, a ghost sensation of pressure teasing at the edge of his senses. He doubted he would even feel  _that_  without all the experience with his younger brother. They were just too damn  _small,_  especially after he’d sprouted up in height. Sometimes he couldn’t even feel  _Sam,_  and Sam was much bigger than this guy.  
  
Terrified eyes peeked up at Dean from beyond the shaking arm, and he knew his attempt at reassurance wasn’t working. It was nearly impossible to gain trust from someone so fragile in the first place, and he’d  _just_  snatched the guy off the ground. Even Sam hated when that happened, after all their years together.  
  
Dean didn’t want to keep scaring the kid, and that meant it was time to call in support.  
  
“Think you can give me a hand?” Dean murmured down to his pocket, where Sam was leaning out, wide-eyed at the sudden turn of events and the sight of the person Dean had captured. It had happened so  _fast,_  there was no chance for him to say anything.  
  
Sam nodded. “No problem.” After all their years together, Sam knew better than anyone else how awful Dean would feel for trapping someone, even for just a moment. Seeing that was painful for both brothers, knowing that Dean’s strength could be turned on Sam without even a fight back unless he got his knife out in time.  
  
Luckily, that had never happened, but considering the number of monsters out in the world that could wear Dean’s face, it was a possibility that was never far from their minds. Much of their training focused on Sam trying to counter an attempt like that from Dean.  
  
Putting his hand on the edge of the pocket, Sam hauled himself up and used the thick fabric of Dean’s shirt to climb. His fingers were small and dexterous enough to slip between the threads, an advantage he’d used more than once. Working together with his gigantic brother was second nature.  
  
Now that their father had vanished, they were all that they had left in the world for family.  
  
Sam used Dean’s arm as a broad walkway, feeling the powerful muscles tighten underneath his boots as he made it to the crook of Dean’s arm. It was a familiar path that he had taken many times before. Not even the sight of how high off the ground he was deterred him as he leapt up, scaling the last few inches to Dean’s wrist and finding purchase on the clunky black watch his older brother insisted on wearing. The damn thing was bigger than Sam.  
  
Then he was scrambling onto the huge hand with the tiny captive, and Sam dropped to his knees. He knew they were both safe, even with the massive fingers that arched up behind the little guy, balled up in fear.  
  
“Hey,” he cajoled, putting a gentle hand on the skinny shoulder of the kid. “You’re safe here. My name’s Sam. That’s my brother Dean. He didn’t mean to scare you, I promise.”  
  
For a moment, nothing happened as Sam waited patiently for his words to sink into the terrified guy’s mind. Brown eyes stared up at him, wide and with tears clinging to the sides from fear. A hole formed in Sam’s chest, knowing it was his brother that had unintentionally put that fear there.  
  
The guy was older than he’d thought at first. Years of living a touch and go life at the whims of the people that lived in the motel had left him scrawny and lean, and he wouldn’t reach taller than Sam’s chest from the look of things.  
  
The little guy drew away from Sam after the words faded, closer to the fingers that curled up behind him. Dean watched the scene unfold down on his hand. His green eyes were kind and worried past the normal intensity that shone in them, something easy for Sam to recognize after so many years together.  
  
"S-Sam, Dean," came hesitantly from the guy with the tousled brown hair, his voice hoarse after what he’d gone through. The voice was as light as the flutter of a baby bird’s wings, and Sam would be hard-pressed to imagine Dean hearing it if he wasn’t so focused down on them both.  
  
Sam smiled and nodded, staying on his knees as the guy drew himself to his feet. He couldn’t stand more than three and a quarter inches tall and Sam didn’t want to startle him even more with his own height. He’d learned long ago, that as small as he was in the human world, he was actually one of the tallest at his own scale.  
  
Any thoughts like that were derailed by the next statement from little guy’s mouth.  
  
"I-I know you. You were here a long time ago. Do you remember ...?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean is _really bad_ at _not_ scaring the lil guys when he first finds them, even when he grew up with a tiny guy by his side his entire life. He's just so damn _big._
> 
> I think this is the longest we've gone with only one writer's characters appearing at once (aside from lil addins and edits from Neon)!
> 
> **Next:** July 19th 2017 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	3. Blast from the Past

Oscar’s eyes were trained on a dropped scrap of what looked like sausage and egg from a breakfast sandwich. It waited just in the shadow of the table, fresh and inviting, and it wasn’t far from his hiding place under the dresser. He kept stock still, keeping it in his sight even while his other senses paid rapt attention to the room’s other occupants.  
  
He was hungry, but he wasn’t reckless. Recklessness would be a deadly oversight in his situation. Oscar had no hope of fighting back or running fast enough if someone saw him.  
  
There were still humans in the room. Some vacationers had come to the motel to sleep at night after their days of hiking or shopping or whatever it was they did all day. Oscar never really paid much mind to what people did beyond the walls of his motel home. It was all out of his reach.  
  
He couldn’t venture out there, after all. It wasn’t safe. If an animal didn’t see him, a human could spot him and scoop him off the wide open ground with ease. It was the same if he went out onto the floor of the motel rooms. It was exposed and far from safety, and he didn’t like the feeling. He’d been surviving for a long time, and it was thanks to his instincts. He hated feeling exposed.  
  
Oscar had learned how to navigate the enormous world by himself a long time ago. He was only seven when his mom went out for food and disappeared. He never did find out what happened to her, so either she got swept up and crushed, or some human took her. Not knowing used to make him ache inside, but now it was simply another fact of his life.  
  
He lived without her for a whole year, all on his own. Oscar was uncomfortably familiar with the feeling of near-total starvation, the way it gave him a headache that threatened to push his skull apart and made his vision swim. Getting food for himself back then was hard.  
  
He’d only gotten a break when a human captured him. The thought hardly seemed real, but that was the truth as he remembered it.  
  
It was a kid named Dean who’d been left with his younger brother to live in the motel while their dad was away. He’d swept Oscar right off the floor, thwarting a desperate attempt to get back into the walls. Oscar had tried so hard to get back home after spending time stuck in their room under a dresser identical to the one that concealed him now.  
  
“I guess we’re doing this, aren’t we,” Oscar muttered to himself, in a voice so low he might not have actually made any noise. His lips barely moved. As he kept his eye on a scrap of abandoned food and listened to the humans packing up their scattered belongings, Oscar couldn’t stop himself from thinking about that golden month of his life when he’d been able to eat food that good  _every day._  As much as he wanted.  
  
Oscar’s would-be captor felt bad about grabbing him and scaring him, especially after seeing him cry and flinch. Oscar had the little brother to thank for that. Sam had insisted that Dean let Oscar out of his closed hands right away, and had offered words of comfort in the shadow of a giant.  
  
Sam was  _Oscar’s size._  Or at least, he’d been close to it back then. Oscar had always been small, even for one of the little people. He hadn’t even managed to reach his modest goal of three and a half inches tall.  
  
After that terrifying first encounter, they’d become friends. They played together and Oscar even went outside more than once with the two brothers, with Dean watching over the smaller kids. Oscar got to go to school and build a snowman and learn how to play tag. A month of his life was allotted to him to just be a kid for once. To eat too much and watch TV, and have real friends. He certainly hadn’t had the chance ever since then.  
  
The brothers were gone. One morning, Oscar had gone to see them, even hoped to ask if he could go live with them when they left, but he was too late. He was  _too late._ They’d packed up their things and gone away. Sam didn’t even get to finish his goodbye note to Oscar.  
  
Oscar had the world, and he lost it that day. It was back to surviving. No more time to play. No more safety to be found in one motel room and one pair of bed-sized hands. No more time to be happy when he needed to make sure he’d live.  
  
He thought about them a lot. Even now, he had a vague notion of a bright smile and hazel eyes, the best friend of over a decade ago lingering in his mind. Sam and Dean’s faces might have become hazy in his head the further away that month became, but they would always be there. They were his first friends.  
  
They were his  _only_  friends. Oscar knew some of the others that lived way on the other side of the motel, but the way the building was divided made it hard to travel back and forth between them, so he’d never grown close to anyone over there. Sometimes it still amazed him that he’d become better friends with a  _human_ than the people facing a similar struggle to his own.  
  
At least he knew it was real. That month, though painfully short, had really happened, and Oscar really had tried all kinds of wonderful foods and played games and slept on a pillow. Things were good then. The thought gave him motivation to keep getting through his days even now.  
  
The loud sound of a zipper being closed over a bulging suitcase drew Oscar out of his daydreaming. He huddled down a little more underneath the dresser, and finally glanced aside to watch the shoes moving around over there. The humans were done packing. Soon they’d leave and he could claim his food.  
  
“Got everything, sweetie?” rumbled out overhead.  
  
A second pair of shoes walked up to join the first from the direction of the bathroom. These slip on shoes might have seemed dainty on the woman wearing them, but it made no difference to Oscar. Her steps still shook the floor, no matter how often her boyfriend called her  _little_  and  _cute._  Humans outsized him, and their strength outclassed him. To him, there was nothing little about them, not even their voices.  
  
“I got it,” the woman replied, and Oscar watched placidly as the two pairs of shoes made their way over towards the door.  
  
Oscar kept his knees slightly bent so that the shaking in the floor from their steps didn’t jostle his legs. Every little counter move made a difference when he was on a supply run. Couldn’t risk getting sore, sick, or stepped on.  _Three S’s,_  he reminded himself.  
  
The wide door creaked open and a rush of chilly air surged across the floor, striking Oscar like a wave of water. He winced as it stole away some of his meager body heat. This was his reward for waiting in the room instead of in the vent. At least they’d be gone soon.  
  
“Oh, wait, babe, some of your breakfast fell,” the woman spoke again, and her shoes turned back towards the room.  
  
“Just leave it for the maids,” the guy groused, holding the door open.  
  
Oscar frowned. “Yeah, leave it,” he murmured in agreement, even as the woman stooped and her hand came into view. A hand that could probably squash the breath out of Oscar without any effort pinched around the dropped food and then both disappeared. There was a rustle of plastic as the food was tossed into the trash bin, and then the couple proceeded to get into a lighthearted argument about respecting the help as the door slammed behind them.  
  
They left without ever realizing they’d just thrown away Oscar’s shot at some good food for the day. He still had some crackers on his shelves at home, but this was  _sausage and eggs._  He’d made the foolish mistake of getting his hopes up.  
  
He clenched his jaw and turned away. No use wanting what he couldn’t have. He told himself that a lot, and though it helped a little, his stomach still hurt.  
  
He made his way to an entrance to the wall concealed behind the dresser. He decided he’d scope out the room closest to his home for a little while before heading in until he could try again tomorrow. There was always a shot he might find something.  
  


[Artwork by heartstores](http://heartstores.deviantart.com/art/Oscar-572861865)

* * *

  
Oscar shuffled around underneath the table in the room nearest his little home in the walls, accessed by a short walk through the air ducts. He’d already managed to kick up a crumb or two from the carpet and stashed them away in his worn cloth bag, mostly grey with some patches of black fabric sewn on here and there. There still wasn’t enough for a meal, but it was better than returning home with nothing.  
  
He was glad that, even though the maids had clearly gone through the room already (none of the guests seemed to know how to make a bed like they did), they hadn’t run the vacuum. Someone’s meal at that very table had left behind crumbs just waiting for Oscar to find them, and he hadn’t even checked the tabletop yet.  
  
He knelt to pick up another crumb, taking the stale bread in hand and lifting the flap of his bag. While he tucked it away, he thought of another time he’d gotten food in this room. It was the corner of a sandwich, flattened carefully for him. The bread hadn’t been stale then, but he didn’t complain about his crumbs. They would sustain him for another day, even without the delicious flavors of peanut butter and jelly on them.  
  
Oscar’s musings about good food and lots of it came to a screeching halt when he paid attention to the noises outside. An engine had cut off just beyond the huge door. A loud, growling engine that promised the car around it was either huge or falling out of repair.  
  
Either way, it had  _stopped_  and that only meant one thing.  
  
Oscar dashed as quickly as he could towards the leg of the table, and it wasn’t a moment too soon. The door opened, bringing another wave of cool air that shivered through him as he pressed himself against the table leg to hide his small body from view. At least his size had one advantage over the human that stomped into the room. It was easy to miss his presence.  
  
He was a few feet from the dresser. That would have been his ideal hiding spot, but drifting off to think about sandwiches given to him by someone he’d never see again had distracted him. He’d be cursing at himself if things weren’t so dire.  
  
Something clattered loudly as a bag was tossed onto one of the beds, and Oscar’s whole body jolted from the noise. He shut his eyes tight and took a few deep breaths. At least any instinct to cry out when he was startled had long since been suppressed. He felt a few more steps from the massive boots he’d glimpsed. It was just one human. One big, enormous human who definitely stood taller than a lot of others.  
  
Oscar could do this. He’d just need to dart towards the dresser as soon as an opportunity presented itself. Then he could hide there until the human went to sleep or went out, something giving him the opportunity to leave. He had crumbs to hold him over if the wait was long. All he needed was a better hiding place, and then he’d be fine.  
  
Even hidden by the table leg, Oscar was far too exposed. Behind him was a pillar of wood, but in front of him was the wide expanse of floor under the table. His heart pounded. He felt like the open space was all pointing right at him, ready to make the human come looking for intruders in his room.  
  
They hadn’t found the lightswitch yet. Oscar took it as his best chance. The room wasn’t completely dark, by any means, but having the lamps on wouldn’t do him any favors. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then repeated the action.  
  
And then, no time to second guess himself, Oscar ran.  
  
As he ran, light flooded the room. Oscar's heart, already frantic and pounding against his ribcage, leapt into overdrive as the shadows around him disappeared and took away all cover he might have had. He was exposed.  
  
He became hyper aware of every passing second as if they'd slowed to a crawl. His bag pounded against his side and he ran as fast as he could on dismally short legs. Oscar could see, in the corner of his eye, as massive boots angled towards him. Terror crept in, almost making him falter.  
  
It only took the human a few deliberate steps to close the distance between them. Oscar felt every time a huge shoe hit the floor, and he heard the telltale shift in breathing as his movement surprised the human. Not many expected to find tiny intruders in their room. Even though Oscar had been born in the motel and lived there for his entire life, he was still the intruder. That was how it worked with humans.  
  
The disjointed thoughts kept him driving forward, but it was too little, too late. A shadow fell over him again, but it wasn't from the light switching off.  
  
Oscar didn't have time to flinch out of the way before fingers much bigger and stronger than him surrounded his body and secured him to a huge palm. He was caught, trapped in a fist that restrained his panicked struggling. Oscar couldn't even yell in fright, for his breath caught in his throat. Only a frightened squeak like a mouse made it past his lips.  
  
This time, the human that caught him was  _bigger._  Oscar had even less chance of being able to stand up to him. Tears filled his eyes and his stomach clenched as he left the floor behind to lift rapidly into the air, controlled entirely by the human checking in.  
  
He was  _caught._  
  
The ascent was dizzying as the human stood. Oscar wasn't afraid of heights after a lifetime of scaling massive cliffs, but all the same, vertigo made his entire body feel light and disoriented and out of place as the human snatched him into the air against his will and beyond his control. Oscar struggled, but the shaking in his limbs weakened him. It wouldn’t change much anyway.  
  
He didn't stand a chance against a human, and he knew that trying to get away would accomplish nothing.  
  
The upward motion stopped and Oscar's breath hitched. His tearful eyes were wide and he could see light creeping in as those powerful fingers opened up. He caught a glimpse of a pair of intense green eyes and a slightly furrowed brow in a look of concentration. Concentration on  _him_  as those green eyes landed on him.  
  
Oscar thought for a split second about getting his safety pin from his bag to use as a weapon, but he knew, just like the last time he was hoisted into the air by a human, that would accomplish little. This human didn't look as friendly as before, either. Instead, Oscar curled into a ball.  
  
The background noise of fear was too loud for Oscar to make sense of the words that boomed around him, rumbling in the human's gruff voice. More light fell on him as the hand opened more for the human to see him better.  
  
Oscar shivered and remained curled up in terror. He was so exposed and nothing he could do would change that he was high up on a human's hand, captured. The man could do whatever he wanted now.  
  
A fingertip bigger than Oscar's head brushed at his arm, and his whole body rocked from the contact. Humans were  _so powerful._  Oscar squeezed his eyes shut and forced out a few tears before taking one shaking hand off his neck to plant it on the intruding fingertip.  
  
His hand was so damn small by comparison. Oscar got a sudden notion of the human poking at him and nudging him around until he could pin him under that fingertip and he shot one worried glance past the hand to its owner. He pushed weakly against it, but he only succeeded in pushing himself back instead.  
  
The human spoke again, and this time Oscar was present enough to hear the words that rumbled around him like thunder and shook his bones.   
  
"Think you can give me a hand?"  
  
Oscar flinched and for a moment wondered if the human was talking to him. Until he noticed that the words were directed not to the occupant of the human's hand, but to the occupant of his  _pocket._  Oscar's eyes grew wide as another little person nodded and climbed out of the chest pocket like it was nothing.  
  
To this guy, it probably wasn't much of an issue to climb across the human's huge arm to get to Oscar. Oscar watched him approach before shrinking back. The guy was  _four inches tall._  It put Oscar's meager three and a quarter inches to shame. Not that it mattered much when he was curled up on the human's hand.  
  
"Hey," the other guy greeted as he placed a massive hand of his own on Oscar's shoulder. Oscar's breath hitched and he tensed up, confused and scared. He didn't really believe it when the man said "You're safe here."  
  
And then came the introductions. "My name's Sam. That's my brother Dean. He didn't mean to scare you, I promise."  
  
Sam. Dean. Suddenly, a voice that Oscar hadn't been able to recall clearly in years came back to him in full clarity, saying  _He didn't mean to scare you_  in all earnestness while Oscar cried in fear.  
  
_They came back_  played over and over in a loop as Oscar stared at Sam, noting the hazel eyes and the gentle demeanor. His eyes drifted aside to the human's face, so close to them both, and Oscar blinked. There were the green eyes he remembered. Changed by the years and more intense than before, but they were the same.  
  
Oscar was almost happy, until  _What if they don't remember me_  crashed across his mind and his brow knitted. He blinked back the terrified tears and sat up, scooting back from Sam. His best friend and someone Oscar thought about almost every day was here, but what reason did he have to remember Oscar?  
  
There was no way he could stand out in the lifetime of people like Sam and Dean. He knew what they were used to. Monsters and witches and ghosts. They helped people. It was a lot more important than some kid they met thirteen years ago.  
  
"S-Sam, Dean," Oscar said hoarsely, trying to find his voice after the fear unwound enough to let him speak. He pushed himself to a shaky stand and glanced back and forth between them.  
  
Despite his worries, a smile almost settled on his face. Oscar's expression couldn't decide what it wanted to convey. His eyes fell to the cloth bag that hung from Sam's shoulder and he dragged a hand down his face, covering his mouth. It was a twin of his own, minus the patched up spots.  
  
"I-I know you," he finally said. "You were here a long time ago. Do you remember ...?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >w> At last his time has come.
> 
>  **Next:** July 23rd 2017 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	4. Tenacious O

Sam’s mouth hung open, and he didn’t notice. The scenery of the room, pushed to the back of his mind and only glimpsed through peripheral vision to be dismissed as just another motel, came rushing to the fore of his mind. The pictures of knights hanging on the walls and the tacky bedspreads combined with the sight of the grey cloth bag that rested on the little guy’s side, a tattered twin to Sam’s own bag.  
  
With a dry swallow, Sam managed to close his mouth for a brief second to compose his thoughts. Of  _course_  he remembered. Those days back when he’d first been cursed stood out in his mind more than any others. Bright days spent with a friend his size. The time he’d learned to take his size, and Dean’s size, for what they were instead of reasons to be afraid.  
  
And all because of lessons from a certain eight year old boy they’d met in the motel.  
  
Dean had snatched the little guy up the first time they’d seen the kid, much like he’d done this time around. Sam had needed to crawl into the huge hands to reassure the kid and let him know he was safe.  
  
“Oscar,” Sam said hoarsely. “My god. You’re Oscar. We… we didn’t…” He covered his own face with a hand, brushing his eyes as a wetness caught him off guard. “Of course I remember.”  
  
The smile finally showed on Oscar's face. "I'm ... really glad," he answered quietly. Sam remembered  _him_. After all this time, and all their adventures, Sam still remembered being friends with Oscar for a month back when they were kids. When Sam first became small and Oscar was the first person their size he ever met.  
  
He wiped at more tears that sprang up, but these weren't from the terror of not knowing what his captor would do. Oscar glanced down. The hand was a lot more callused than he remembered, and certainly a lot  _bigger,_  but he remembered it being safe for him once upon a time. He willed his nerves to diminish at the thought.   
  
These were his  _friends._  
  
"I, uh," he began, pausing to clear the lump in his throat. "I didn't think you guys would come back here," he admitted. Why would they? They traveled all over the place. The chances of them returning were slim to none. Yet somehow, they'd checked into the same  _room_  as last time, a twist in fate no one had ever seen coming.  
  
Sam pushed himself to his feet, awed at the coincidence. “We, uh. We tried to look for you, but…” His eyes closed, remembering those days arguing with his dad about going back to a motel that a monster had tracked them to. The monster might be dead, but John had refused to let them know where it was. Too  _dangerous_ , he’d said. “We couldn’t remember the name of the motel,” Sam confessed. “We tried, but… there were so many other motels we stayed at. We could never find this one.”  
  
Now he’d never forget it, and neither would Dean, Sam knew. That was the last thought that made it through his mind before his feet pushed him forward. He swept Oscar up into a hug, and the tears in his eyes escaped at last. “We were  _so worried_  for you,” he mumbled into Oscar’s shoulder. “All that time… and we had no idea what would happen.”  
  
The sight of the small embrace drew Dean out of his own thoughts, and the edge of his lips turned up in a smile. “Oz…” he murmured, his voice kept low for their sake. That was all he got out. He tilted his hand, but the two on it weren’t in any danger of falling. Instead, they found themselves cupped over his heart, and Dean rubbed a thumb against Oscar’s arm for reassurance. “You are one tenacious son of a bitch.”  
  
Oscar was surrounded. He blinked rapidly as more tears came to his eyes, shocked, incredulous, and happy tears. He was engulfed in two separate hugs, from two people who had gotten a lot bigger since the last time he saw them. His feet had left Dean's hand when Sam swept him up, and now they were both secured over a huge chest.  
  
The thumb brushing his arm gave him something to focus on, and Oscar took slow, measured breaths. It was really happening. He was really seeing his friends again for the first time in so many years that he almost hadn't recognized them. Their faces were older, not as carefree as last time, but there was no mistaking them now.  
  
Dean's heartbeat was so close. His pulse surrounded Oscar and Sam both, and Sam's embrace was close around Oscar, too. He squirmed to move his thin arms to hug back. He felt so frail compared to how much Sam had bulked up.  
  
He couldn't find it in him to answer. He didn't have the words. Nothing could precisely explain how happy he was to see them, how relieved he was that they still remembered him. Oscar had felt forgotten for so much of his life, but now he felt  _remembered._  
  
After a few seconds of the warm group hug with Oscar enveloped by both brothers, he began to fidget. "Guys ..." he managed, trying to tilt his head up so he could address Dean, too. He couldn't see past the underside of his jaw. "Kinda squished."  
  
Dean heard the soft voice drift up from his hand, and did a double take. “Sorry,” he said with an embarrassed laugh, tilting his hand away from his chest to set them both free.  
  
Sam expertly caught himself on the surface of the hand and avoided falling. Practice made perfect after years of living with a human. He did his own part and put Oscar down so he could stand on his own two feet. A laugh from Sam followed, and he couldn’t believe how  _happy_  he was. Out of nowhere, Dean’s unexpected grab had resulted in a reunion they had thought would never come. The guy Sam had to thank for everything he knew about surviving at his size without Dean around was finally there with them again.  
  
“Oscar, you…” Sam tried to focus his thoughts. He had so many questions vying for his attention that he had a hard time deciding what to ask first. He settled on the thing he wanted to say more than anything to his best friend from childhood, something he should have been able to say a long time ago. “I just… I never really got to say thanks, for all your help. Without you, I don’t think I woulda made it this long. And we’re so,  _so_  sorry that we… had to leave. We tried, but…” The excuses died on his tongue and his face flushed. He felt so bad that they’d been dragged away like that. So many times he’d wanted to ask Oscar to come with them. Leave the damn motel behind and live a life where he didn’t have to scrounge for scraps.  
  
“We’d do anything to change it,” Dean said in his familiar rumble, his own voice threatening to choke up on him.  
  
Oscar fidgeted with the strap of his bag, running his thumb over the seam where it was sewn onto the rest. He'd had to repair that a couple times over the years. Repairing the bag was a lot easier than trying to make a new one from scratch. From the looks of things, Sam had taken better care of his bag, and hadn't needed to fix his much since way back then.  
  
Oscar couldn't sugarcoat things. It was rough living on his own like he did, but it wasn't their fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.  
  
He shrugged after the pause, his brow furrowing at the guilt that hung in heavy clouds over both Sam and Dean. "It's not ... it sounded like it was pretty urgent in your note." The note, faded and crumpled, was still in his home. It was the last reminder of the friends he'd managed to keep.  
  
He smiled faintly. "I'm glad you're doing good after getting chased off by a monster."  
  
“Well, we’re back now,” Dean affirmed. “And that monster’s long dead. Dad tracked it down a few years later and took care of it. It won’t be hunting any more kids in any more motels.” He glanced around the room, feeling bad that he was holding them both so high up in the air on his hand. It didn’t really give them many options for moving around, so he decided to go over to the table.  
  
As Dean took the few steps to the table that rattled up through his body to slightly jar the two on his hand, Sam looked Oscar over. Their old friend was leaner and scrawnier than he should be. The familiar foot wraps brought a smile to Sam’s face, remembering when Oscar had worn multiple sets to keep his feet dry in the snow.  
  
Dean carefully lowered his hand down to the surface of the old, nicked up tabletop. Some things clearly never changed at the  _Knights Inn,_  and the sight of the table brought back even more memories. Measuring the two kids had been a high point, laughing at Sam’s attempts to defiantly squirm away from the measuring tape a memory that he’d never lost. Even all the times he’d done the same in other motels, that first time had always stuck out. Oscar had been enamoured with the sight (at least until he’d discovered he was smaller than he’d thought).  
  
Sam stepped down from Dean’s hand, offering Oscar a hand of his own to help him down. Walking on a surface that had a mind of its own wasn’t something that people like them were used to, aside from Sam himself.  
  
The life Oscar lead meant he had to avoid anyone that might be dangerous, and for him, that was every human that wasn’t Dean. He’d done his best to avoid Dean, too, but somehow Dean always caught Oscar in the nick of time.  
  
“Oscar,” Sam said. He had to clear his throat to get the next words out. “After we, uh, had to leave. What happened?” In all the years since they’d been dragged away from him, that had bothered Sam more than anything. The possibility that his best friend would suffer because they’d left, or worse, get captured with nobody out there to help him.  
  
Oscar took Sam's outstretched hand, noting with some private dismay that his own was so much smaller. He felt like he'd hardly grown at all since last he saw them, while Sam had practically doubled in size. Dean had to have gained several inches, as well as growing  _broader_.  
  
He stepped shakily off the hand, amazed that in his life, he’d been captured twice. Both times by the  _same human,_  and it was a human that had worried about him all this time. Oscar believed them when they insisted they wanted to come back for him, and it was a nice thought to reassure himself.   
  
He still wished he had been quicker that morning they left. He’d always wish he could have reached them before they were gone.  
  
"Um, well," he answered, unable to resist a quick glance around the table and the room. He was so exposed up there, and he had to work to remind his instincts that it didn't matter with a human already looking right at him. "N-not much happened, really."  
  
Oscar had cried his eyes dry for several nights after they went. Just like when his mother never came home, he mourned their leaving. To someone who couldn’t leave, it was just as agonizing as a death. When his mouse friend visited, his buried his face in the fur on her neck and sobbed and she let him until he was tired out. He even took a few brave chances to peek at the parking lot to see if he could see Dean rushing back to that door. He scanned the expanse of asphalt from one of the external laundry vents, praying for a sign that he’d be okay.  
  
But not much happened.  
  
"I just kinda went back to my old routine," he admitted with a sheepish shrug. "I guess ... a few years back the people from the other side came to live in my house 'cause there was water damage over there and the repairs made 'em nervous. They went home when it was done."  
  
“Sounds like you had your hands full,” Sam grinned. He could remember the little home in the walls that Oscar had taken care of after his mother had vanished. The eight year old kid hadn’t even been able to reach the highest shelves inside, and so had chosen to store his supplies on the lower shelves. It was quaint and homey, and Sam had loved it. It was such a change from the giant, sweeping rooms Dean lived in.  
  
That was one reason Sam had been thrilled when Bobby decided to make him a place on the bottom shelf of the guest bedroom. It was an area he could go to just be himself. They’d found furniture his size, all from a craftsman in Sioux Falls that made the highest quality dollhouse furniture. He hadn’t questioned the strange requests that poured in, and not even the demands from Dean that it be as true to scale as possible for a person four inches tall.  
  
“Hell,” Dean said as he settled on one of the chairs at the table, the wood creaking under his weight. “This is one case I’m glad we didn’t skip. I can’t believe we found the same motel after all those years.”  
  
Oscar chuckled quietly. The coincidence really  _was_  staggering. Sam and Dean had stayed in so many different motels that they hadn't even recognized one where they'd spent an entire month.  
  
It struck him that, if he hadn't been in the room when Dean walked in, they probably would have left without him ever knowing. He wouldn't have gone up to the man sitting at the table on his own, that was for sure. Dean had gotten bigger and a lot stronger, and fought monsters. It was intimidating.  
  
"I'm glad, too," he answered. "It's really good to see you guys again after such a long time. I guess you're probably just here 'til you take care of the monster?"  
  
“Well…” Dean drawled, avoiding the thought of leaving their friend on his own again. Sam wasn’t the only one to notice how thin Oscar’s tiny arms were, beyond even just his size. Sam’s arms weren’t even  _close_  to that thin, and hadn’t been since he was a kid. “However long we end up staying, you can bet we’re not leaving like we did last time. This time,  _I’m_  the one driving, so whatever I say, goes.”  
  
Sam nodded, knowing that regardless of what Dean said, if he wanted to stay longer, the hunter wouldn’t pack up and leave for anything. “We’re here hunting a werewolf,” he told Oscar. “I caught wind of it after we wrapped up a case a few states over.”  
  
Oscar's eyebrows went up. He was well past the point where he might not believe them. The brothers were unbelievable enough already, just from the size difference alone. Add in that Dean was a  _human_  that didn't want to trap or hurt anyone their size just because he could, and Oscar's friends were basically as impossible as werewolves were supposed to be. Yet here they were.  
  
"Sounds pretty, um, scary," he admitted sheepishly. Oscar had always been timid. Even back when he was a kid and was a little more open-minded about the new things that came his way, he'd been nervous a lot. His first day going to school with Sam and Dean saw him hiding in Dean's hood the entire time.  
  
Something came back to him from one of their conversations so many years ago, and he looked up at Dean. "So did you, uh, become the guy that monsters are scared of? It shouldn't be too hard for you to take care of it, right?"   
  
Dean’s grin was completely confident. “Not a problem. We already know how to take these suckers out, all we gotta do is find the son of a bitch, and Sam’s the best when it comes to that.” He put his arms on the table, leaning forward so he wasn’t so far away from them. “Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing.” With a smirk he reached out with a finger and ruffled Oscar’s messy brown hair, making it stick out in all new directions.  
  
Sam didn’t react to the huge hand that intruded on the space between them, adjusted to Dean’s impulsive nature. Oscar lifted his hands up to try and fix the mess his hair had become, and Sam picked up the explanation. “Once we find it, all it takes to kill a werewolf is a silver bullet to the heart. The last time we took one on, I distracted it long enough for Dean to grab his gun.” The fact that he’d essentially faced down a skyscraper sized killing machine didn’t faze Sam. Nor did the fact that if it lunged at him, it wouldn’t even bother with his heart. He’d be killed in one move, too small to waste precious time over. Dean wouldn’t let him down, and Sam would do the same.  
  
Oscar paused with his hands still on his head. He never bothered with his hair much, and it was always a mess. He lowered his hands slowly, staring at Sam and blinking deliberately as he caught up with the scenario he described.  
  
"You distracted a werewolf," he repeated, stuck between awe and wanting to tell Sam how damn crazy he was.  
  
Oscar would probably have a heart attack if he tried that. He couldn't even stop himself from stiffening when Dean's hand came his way just to ruffle his hair, and Oscar knew he could trust that hand. Putting himself in front of a  _werewolf,_  an unnatural killing machine, would not go well. "You guys are a lot braver than me, that's for sure," he mumbled out. "I don't even like it when they hire a new maid here." Whenever that happened, Oscar would stay hidden for at least a week until he was sure of the new schedule. It was too nervewracking otherwise.  
  
“You’re braver than you think,” Sam told Oscar. “You’ve been surviving in this motel since you were eight years old, all on your own. That’s more than I ever had to do, and younger, too.”  
  
Sam didn’t know what would have happened in those seconds after the curse had taken effect. He’d been completely knocked out into a comatose state for almost a week. Dean had spotted him at the last second, scooping his tiny, unconscious form up into a hand that from then on dwarfed his entire body.  
  
If that hadn’t happened… if Sam had been left on his own…  
  
He might not be alive now. He certainly wouldn’t be with Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All those years... Oscar's still there.
> 
> **Next:** July 26th 2017 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	5. You Both Got Tall

“Where would I be without my pocket ace?” Dean mused, switching his attention to Sam and ruffling the long brown hair that Sam  _always_  protested against cutting. Honestly, sometimes Dean thought Sam was glad being so small gave him an excuse to hate haircuts.  
  
Oscar smiled faintly, glancing up at the hand that overshadowed them both. He couldn't help but notice how little he really was, standing next to Sam. Sam had managed to reach a whole four inches tall. Even Oscar, who didn’t spend a lot of time with anyone, knew that was  _tall_.  
  
It made him happy that someone like Sam, who faced monsters and things at his size without concern, would tell  _Oscar_  he was brave. Oscar, who was afraid to go outside or deviate from his schedule too much lest he risk getting captured. In the moments before he'd realized who caught him (again), panic was all Oscar knew. Even now, he was primed for anything, staying out in the open for so long with a human sitting right there. Instincts were hard to ignore, and his were telling him he shouldn't be there. He didn't belong.  
  
"It got easier every year," he said after a pause. "The food you guys left gave me enough time to figure out how I was gonna keep bringing enough home, so I'm really grateful for that. I'm doing pretty good."  
  
“Good,” Sam said softly. “We shoved every bit of food we had in the room before we got dragged out. There wasn’t even any time to get anything from the car; Dad had us leaving the second he packed us in. I didn’t even get to finish writing my message. If Dean hadn’t grabbed me, Dad was going to.” He grew quiet. As much as he trusted his dad, he’d never particularly liked being picked up by the man. There was something… different, when John held him compared to when Dean held him. Like he had far less control over things.  
  
Dean had spotted it coming and intervened, snatching his little brother up and finishing up the letter with a speedy scrawl. It hadn’t been fancy, but it was all he had time to do before he was dragged out.  
  
“Speaking of food…” Dean mused, “I’ve still got the cooler in the car. Can’t let that sit outside to freeze. It would be an atrocity.” He pushed himself to a stand and winked down at the two on the table. They both had their bags slung around their shoulders, so they wouldn’t be stranded if he left for a minute. “Back in a flash.”  
  
Oscar tilted his head back and it was still hard to keep track of Dean's height. Standing on the table was vastly better than on the floor, at least, but it was still a show of perspective. Oscar took a few tiny steps backwards, unable to resist it lest he tip himself over from craning his neck back too far.  
  
Once Dean turned away and headed back out of the room, Oscar took several deep breaths. It was overwhelming, to have all of this dropped on him at once. He'd gone so quickly from the sheer terror of being captured to unexpected awe and relief and worry, among the many confused emotions that surrounded the reunion with his long-lost friends. Oscar's shoulders were tense.  
  
"You... you both got really tall," he said quietly to Sam, smiling sheepishly.   
  
Sam put a tentative hand on Oscar’s shoulder with a reassuring pat. “Dean always told me ‘Winchesters run tall’ when I was growing up, and he wasn’t wrong. Dean beat out dad by an inch and made it all the way to 6’3”, and when he figured out my height with the ruler, I’d be 6’4” if we ever break my curse.” He was proud of that one, at least. He might be the smallest in the family because of his curse, but for relative height, he’d made it the tallest.  
  
If only he could  _use_  that height.  
  
“Oh!” Sam realized as he stared out the window, searching for Dean’s shadow. “If you ever hear two knocks on the door, that means Dean’s coming in. We came up with a signal, that way if anyone ever breaks into the room, I’ll have advance warning. The knocks mean it’s safe, no knocks means hide, even if Dean comes in.”  
  
Oscar pondered it and then nodded. It was a good system, one he certainly wouldn't have thought of. His policy of run-and-hide got him through years on his own. The idea of having a safe human that could  _signal_  to him that they were safe never would have come to him.  
  
"That's a pretty good idea. Hopefully you haven't run into too much trouble with it," he mused. Diving for cover was second nature to Oscar. He wondered if Sam was the same.  
  
Two knocks echoed around the room from the door, and Oscar flinched. He nearly sidled away from the door, ready to bolt, before he reminded himself of what Sam had just told him. He took a short breath and inwardly scolded his instincts for being so primed. These were his friends. He could trust them.  
  
Dean shouldered his way into the room, the cooler taking up both hands. Thanks to Sam’s warning, Oscar had the time to compose himself and Dean didn’t spot the lingering nerves on their old friend. The sun was setting at last, sending the sky into red and orange highlights that illuminated Dean from behind.  
  
The door slammed shut behind the tall hunter, sealing them off from view of the outside once more and Sam tossed a glance at Oscar. “Nothing’s happened  _yet,_ ” he said. “A few close calls with a maid or two, but they’re pretty easy to avoid if I have to. Your lessons  _definitely_  paid off over the years. I even dodged Dean a time or two, and that’s a bigger challenge than any unsuspecting maids.”  
  
Dean came over with the cooler and dropped it on the ground next to the dresser. “I heard my name. I hope it’s all good things you’re saying about me.”  
  
Oscar very nearly inched towards the edge of the table to look over the side at the cooler Dean had brought in. His curiosity took a backseat, though, and he focused on the human in the room. "Well it's nothing  _bad,_ " he assured him, a faint smile coming to his face. "Just Sam telling me he's gotten fast enough to outrun you. Sometimes."  
  
Oscar was quick on his feet, but his short legs could only do so much. He never would have been prepared for Dean to lunge at him so quickly. Most humans probably wouldn't have spotted him, and that was his greatest asset. Oscar passed unnoticed through the motel rooms thanks to the fact that no one would be looking for him.  
  
"I'm glad the lessons stuck, I guess, considering I was only eight when I gave them," he added ruefully. Oscar remembered feeling so proud of himself when they let him be Sam's teacher. Looking back, he knew he’d only given the basics on everything. At least Sam was fine, so it must have worked better than he thought.  
  
“Dude, without you I wouldn't have  _thought_  of climbing on my own,” Sam protested. “Not for months, at least. Maybe even years.”  
  
Dean snorted. “There's a reason he can outrun me from time to time. I've never seen anyone climb like Sam, even the few times I've met other people your size.” He snagged his laptop from his duffel before he sat down, knowing they'd have to start research sooner than later. The werewolf wouldn't gank itself, after all.  
  
Sam opened his cloth bag, slipping out his climbing supplies to show them off to Oscar. “I got too big to use the pin you gave me,” he said ruefully. The three-pronged metal hook he pulled out enough to catch the light was a nasty piece of work. “We found this and it works better. I'm not heavy enough to bend it.”  
  
Oscar leaned towards Sam with interest, intently glancing over the hook that he revealed. The three prongs would catch on just about anything. Even without a notch in the wood, it'd probably catch on most furniture anyway, bracing itself with two of the prongs and the back end of the hook. It was a lot more sophisticated than the safety pin Oscar had given to Sam all those years ago.  
  
His cheeks warmed as he realized he was still using the same pin he'd had back then. Oscar kept spares, of course, but his old one was still working. He had never grown heavy enough to bend it, like Sam apparently had. "I bet you can climb just about anything with that," he assessed enviously, trying to hide his slight embarrassment. He must look so small and  _simple_  to them now.  
  
The laptop drew his attention. More accurately, the way Dean easily moved it around drew his attention. Oscar remembered that the pair of them were here to do a job. It was one of the weirdest jobs he'd ever heard of, but he still didn't want to be the one to get in the way of it.  
  
"W-well, uh," he began uncertainly, absently picking at one of the patches on his cloth bag. "I should, maybe, let you guys work. I gotta take what I found today back home anyway."  
  
“Uh, if-- if you  _want,_ ” Sam said, caught off guard by the sudden turnaround. He hadn't expected the reunion to end without warning like that, but he realized he had no way of knowing what Oscar's plans were before being so rudely interrupted by Dean's reflexive grab off the ground.  
  
Still, he didn't want Oscar to think he was unwanted. They'd spent years worrying about the tiny kid that had helped them so much. They  _owed_  him. More than they could repay, especially after they'd essentially abandoned him to survive on his own after all his help.   
  
“You're welcome here anytime,” Sam said gently. “Don't think you have to leave so soon. And if you need any food, we've always got some to share. Even Dean doesn't eat  _all_  of it. Though he tries.”  
  
Dean poked Sam with an annoyed grimace on his face. “Right, act like  _I’m_  the only one that eats all the food. I swear if we were on the same scale you'd eat more than me, pint-size. It's not my fault I'm a little taller.”  
  
Sam shoved at his hand. “You keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better,” he snarked up at his older brother.  
  
Oscar laughed, quietly at first. "I think I'd give you both a run for the money," he admitted. As someone who always had to ration his food from a very young age, Oscar definitely had an appreciation for it. If he could have a lot of food laid out in front of him and an assurance that he didn't need to hoard it, he'd probably put a good-sized dent in it.  
  
The banter struck a chord with him and his laughter continued, more earnest and more  _relieved._  He brushed at the corner of his eye with the heel of his hand, and left his palm on the side of his head for a second longer. "God, you guys really are  _here,_  " he said with a sigh and a shake of his head. His hand dropped to his side again.  
  
"I imagined this for a long time, and then ..."  _I gave up._  "I didn't really see it going this way, I thought I might have gone nuts off some bad scraps or something. But you're ... this is ..." he trailed off. His voice didn't get used so often. "I couldn't make this up."  
  
Sam hesitantly put an arm around Oscar’s shoulder, feeling how  _frail_  the little shoulders were, and how they barely reached his chest. He had to swallow, barely able to believe it himself that they’d finally found their friend. Yet the cheesey knight decorations in the room refreshed his memory, and they were there.  
  
They found him at last.  
  
“Of course we are,” Sam reassured Oscar. “And we’re not leaving like that again.”  
  
Dean reached a hand forward, just as hesitant. “I always tell Sam ‘no chick flick moments,’ but I think we can make an exception,” he said. He touched against Oscar’s back with two careful fingers, avoiding Sam’s little arm. “Ain’t no one out there that could make someone like  _me_  up. I’m one of a kind.”  
  
“Thank god for that,” Sam cracked with a grin. "I can't imagine having more than one Dean around. You're enough of a handful."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after some discussion over on the BA tumblr, we did decide to make Dean 6'3 in this story! With only one child (technically) to feed, the food went a bit further, and Dean didn't have to go without often at all, letting him grow to his own tall height. Not quite as tall as Sammy, but enough to beat John out.
> 
> **Next:** July 30th 2017 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	6. Ghosts

Oscar found himself surrounded by Winchesters, with Sam on one side and Dean's hand on the other. He took slow, calming breaths before thinking of what to say. Even seeing the stark size comparison next to them, he didn't feel as gut-wrenchingly  _small_  as he normally did. Oscar knew with a keen awareness how big the world was compared to him.  
  
With a huge hand radiating heat right next to him and his old friend standing fully grown and  _tall_  on the other side, Oscar couldn't really see much else. The big world, the size of the room, even the feeling of being  _exposed_  didn't reach him there.  
  
Oscar was, once again, overwhelmed. He wasn't sure what a chick flick moment was, but if this was it then he found he didn't care all that much. "I won't spread the news," he promised with a quiet, worn-out chuckle. All of these huge revelations were exhausting. "I'm not much for gossip anyway."  
  
“He’ll get over it,” Sam said dryly. Dean’s hand drew away to give them space down on the table. After over a decade of living with Sam around, he was pretty good at his interactions, even if he had some setbacks from time to time.  
  
Like  _grabbing_  Oscar.  
  
“You, ah,” Sam tried to start as he stepped back from Oscar, “you don’t have to leave if you don’t want. We’ll be working on research most of the night and Dean  _still_ hates doing homework.”  
  
“Hey,” Dean griped. “ ‘S not my fault. Most of those classes were too slow to pay attention to.”  
  
“Yet we made it all the way through,” Sam smiled, proud of the day his older brother had gotten his diploma, and equally proud of the way he’d helped Dean every step of the way.  
  
Oscar smiled again, though inwardly he was thinking about his own meager education by comparison. He knew his numbers better than he did when last they saw him, though his reading was probably just as slow and measured. Oscar simply didn't have as much time or use in practicing those skills. He needed to worry about his sneaking and weaving and other things that helped him get by on his own.  
  
"Um, congratulations, right?" he answered with a lame shrug. It had to have been years ago, but Oscar hadn't been there for it. "And now you hunt monsters on your own," he mused, glancing over at the laptop. His friends had come such a long way.  
  
"I  _guess_  I could stay a little longer if you don't mind me being here." His concession was accompanied by a few glances around the room, a view that he only ever saw in passing. When he came up on the table on a normal day, he didn't linger very long. It had been a long time since he could feel safe up there. He smiled softly. "Wouldn't wanna distract you."  
  
“Hey, we can use all the distractions we can get,” Dean muttered.   
  
His normal attitude got a glare out of Sam immediately. “What was that?”  
  
Dean’s eyebrows shot up and he gave Sam and Oscar his most innocent look. “Nothin,’ nothin.’ Just sayin’ how we should get started.” He waited until Sam turned away to make a face behind his back. It was gone when Sam whipped around suspiciously, the very-faint prickle on the back of his neck telling him Dean was up to something.  
  
They stared each other down before Dean broke it in his ‘innocence,’ turning away. “I should have a book somewhere around here,” he mumbled. He got up and grabbed his duffel bag, dragging it over and leaving it shoved against the cooler.   
  
Inside was a collection of older books. Aside from being useful for research with a broad view of most supernatural creatures, they also provided Sam with cover when he slept under the nightstand, and were good to substitute as chairs for the smaller guys.  
  
Selecting one, Dean placed it down close to Oscar and opened up his computer. “See? You’re not even close to being in the way, Oz.”  
  
Oscar stood with his hands closed around the strap of the bag over his shoulder, subconsciously taking up as little space as he could after Dean's hands were in motion so much. He'd forgotten until Dean grabbed him just how fast humans could be. That book, too heavy for him to ever hope to budge, was moved around easily.  
  
"Thanks," he finally said, breaking out of his daze. He couldn't help but feel out of place, a world apart if he lingered there, but they had insisted he could.  
  
He inched towards the book, sizing it up. After a pause, he placed his hands on the edge and hoisted himself onto it as a seat. Oscar looked down with pursed lips at the realization that his toes barely brushed the tabletop from there. He was too short to reach without almost scooting himself off his perch. Hopefully the others wouldn't notice.  
  
He settled his bag next to himself and drummed nervous fingers on the edge of the flap keeping it closed. His eyes glanced over the laptop to take in its many details that Oscar had never been close enough to notice. "How're you gonna find the werewolf with that?"  
  
Sam stepped up onto the casing of the laptop, feeling the whirring hard drive beneath his boots when Dean clicked the power on. The screen began to load, chugging through its startup.  
  
“We can check things online,” Sam told Oscar. “Ever since we got the laptop, we can read up a lot of the information about the town or the surrounding area without having to go anywhere. It has instant access to information all across the world. So tonight, since it’s too late to go out and interview people, we’ll find out what we can.”  
  
“And eat,” Dean interjected. The screen loaded and he tapped in the password Sam had programmed for him.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes, striding over to the mouse pad now that the computer had finished turning on. “Right. Can’t miss out on  _that_.”  
  
Oscar's eyebrows lifted and he perked up at the thought. He suddenly remembered visiting Sam and Dean every day, and having plenty of food to eat and even  _multiple meals_  each day. He'd never had enough for that since then, and certainly not in the variety of that month. The fond memories sent a twinge of hunger through him, and Oscar was glad his stomach hadn't made any noise.  
  
The question of whether or not he could stay to join them for the meal was stuck on the tip of his tongue. It was so long since Oscar had been able to just ask for food. He remembered first realizing they were gone, and looking at all of the food they'd left him. He had rationed it all out for as long as he could, because his time to be able to replenish it all with ease had ended.  
  
Oscar was certain that his friends would be willing to have him around. He just couldn't bring himself to ask. He decided to wait. "That's pretty useful," he said instead. "You'd think those were only good for games based on what the desk clerk does all day."  
  
Dean scoffed. “That’s right. They were almost more interested in a game of Solitaire than letting me check in. What a way to run a business.” He shook his head in disgust.  
  
“At least it means they’re less likely to come nosing around,” Sam pointed out with a flat look towards the huge duffel Dean always had by his side. Past the arsenal in the trunk of the Impala, the hunter always kept a supply of weapons on himself. Today, there were several knives, a vial of holy water and a container of salt, and the sawed-off that Dean had made himself. On the hunter was the etched Colt handgun he prized so highly. It was concealed, along with silver bullets and the twin to Sam’s silver knife.  
  
Dean waved that off. “I can handle nosy maids. We haven’t been caught yet, right?”  
  
Sam sat down next to the trackpad with a solid  _thump_ , loading up the internet browser. “If you get your ass thrown in jail, I’m not posting bail,” he shot up at the hunter.  
  
A finger lightly nudged Sam in the side. “Because  _you’d_  totally go down to the police station and pay it yourself. I know you’ve got all the extra funds in your panic room, but I think you’ll need a hand from Bobby to actually pay up.”  
  
Oscar snickered quietly, the sound barely more than a breath in the open air. Quiet was his natural mode, especially when he was away from the safety of the walls. He might be among friends, but long-standing habits died hard.  
  
He fell into a companionable silence as he watched the two of them bicker. The scene felt so surreal, and Oscar still kept wondering if he'd dreamed it all up. It was too vivid. If he pinched himself, he'd still be there, awake, and among the friends he thought lost to him for good.  
  
He looked down to dig into his bag, pushing aside the crumbs of the day and his safety pin. When he found what he was looking for, he tugged it out of the depths of his bag, settling the scrap of cloth on his lap. It was a lucky find, a piece of someone's sweater. Once he de-threaded it, Oscar could make himself something warm.  
  
He settled into a task that he normally did in the dark in his home. His fingers didn't need light to know what to do, pulling the threads apart piece by piece to leave himself with something he could use to weave into much more manageable fabric.  
  
The brothers eventually settled down themselves, and focused on the task at hand. The silence was punctuated on occasion by Sam directing Dean to type in a search. Years of exposure to each other had them well-adjusted to working together. Sam was never left out of the research, even though his size meant that he couldn’t easily use the sprawling laptop.  
  
Their solution was to have Dean man the keyboard, and Sam man the trackpad. The cursor on the screen responded to the touch of his small hand as adeptly as it responded to Dean’s finger. Occasionally Sam would bark out a search to type in, and Dean would point out a part of the screen to click. It was an entertaining show for an outsider to see, two people so different working as a seamless team.  
  
The light outside slowly dipped towards night, and Dean leaned up from his spot on the table, peering towards the door. Sam angled his head so he could see what was happening behind him. The sense of eyes on the back of his neck was almost unnoticeable with Dean, especially compared to the heavy prickle that would settle over him if anyone  _else_  spotted him, even John or Bobby, but it was enough for Sam to know when Dean wasn’t looking in his direction.  
  
“What’s up?” Sam called.  
  
Dean glanced down at Sam, his eyes briefly drifting to Oscar. Both brothers were glad to have him around. It was a weight off their shoulders to finally know exactly where he was and that he was alive and well.  
  
Or, at least alive.  
  
Dean was going to have to do something about how gaunt their old friend looked now. The years hadn’t been as kind to Oscar as they had been to Sam or Dean.  
  
“I think it’s time for a dinner run,” Dean announced to the table. “Maybe run to a diner… grab a burger.”  
  
Sam gave an exasperated sigh. “Can you at least get a salad with it this time?”  
  
“Well…” Dean waffled. “I guess I  _could_. Or maybe get some chili…” He laughed at the annoyance directed up at him. “Of course I’ll get a salad, you rabbit. One of these days you’ll have to give in and try some  _real_  food.” He turned his attention to their guest. “Oz, anything you want me to grab?”  
  
Oscar looked up in surprise, faltering in the last stretch of his dethreading task. He was working efficiently, and he had nearly finished breaking down the cloth he'd scavenged. It took him a moment to get his mind off of the repetitive motions and onto the words Dean directed at him to be able to parse the question.  
  
He blinked slowly, realizing how much time had passed, with him sitting out in the open in  _safety_  and content quiet. His stomach was more insistent now that he eat something, and that he get lots of it.  
  
He couldn't bring himself to ask for something, though. He shook his head quickly. "N-no," he answered, his hands settling on his lap. "If I can just have a bit of whatever you guys have, that'd be great."  
  
“No problem.” A smile grew at the edges of Dean’s face. “Okay. You two know what to do if anyone comes in. I shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes, tops. There’s a diner not two blocks away.” He patted down his jacket, checking that he had his wallet and keys in it before stepping away from the table.  
  
With a wave, Sam motioned at him that they’d be fine. He’d spent more than one day in the room all alone. A short trip to get food was nothing, and now he had the guy who’d taught him everything he knew about sneaking around with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Oscar, this is nearly too good to be true, after all those years.
> 
> **Next:** August 2nd 2017 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	7. Slice of Heaven

Sam waited patiently as the door slammed shut, then stepped to the edge of the laptop. He took a seat, folding his hands together as he stared across the gap at Oscar. “What are you doing with the fabric?” he asked. His opportunities around the people his own size were few and far between, aside from the families that lived in the burrow at Bobby’s. He always wanted to know  _more_  about them. What they did during the day, how they survived, all of the lessons they learned growing up. His curiosity was insatiable, and now he’d found his first teacher again after so many years. It was natural to go back to questioning him.  
  
Oscar glanced down at the remaining fabric in his lap, and then at the loose pile of threads he'd made next to himself. He picked up a few to hold up and show to Sam. "I'm getting smaller threads," he began.  
  
He glanced over Sam's clothes and noticed for the first time that Sam was wearing what appeared to be doll's clothing. The cloth wasn't as thick and cumbersome as something made for a human might be, but it was still notably stiffer at the seams than Oscar's clothes.  
  
 _He never got a chance to learn,_  Oscar realized. He'd never managed to tell Sam about what he always did when he sat and did his chores in his little house while the brothers went to school.  
  
"I weave cloth and make my clothes out of it. It's easier to wear than just using a scrap from a human shirt ... that's too hard to move around in. It'd be really heavy on me."  
  
“Oh.” Sam looked at what Oscar was wearing and compared it to what he had on. A sheepish smile came to his face. “That’s pretty useful.” He absently rubbed the sleeve. As much as he’d complained about the doll clothes as a kid, he’d grown to accept that it was all he had to wear. Dean had insisted on finding a high quality shop and custom ordering it all, even though he always teased Sam that he’d bring home pink princess outfits every time he left to pick it up.  
  
Then there was the one time Sam had woken up in an actual dollhouse, in what Dean thought was the greatest prank ever, complete with a princess doll to match. He still cracked up at the memory, and avoided ever mentioning Sam’s revenge for it.  
  
“I guess… we never thought of that,” Sam murmured. “Dean can sew, but I never learned before the curse hit, and after that… The needle was half my size so I didn’t get the chance… All I can do is put stitches in if I have to.” He didn’t want to expand on  _that_  one anymore if he didn’t have to, considering just how terrifying a wound on Dean big enough to require stitches would look to a guy Oscar’s size. The little guy looked more skittish than he’d been when they last saw him, and that was saying something.  
  
Oscar's mouth twisted into a thoughtful frown. Sam could do a lot of things. Amazing, adventurous things with far more bravery than Oscar thought anyone could be capable of. He had forgotten that, while Sam might be well versed on the hunting-monsters side of his life, he hadn't had much to go on for the small side of life.  
  
Oscar was his first teacher, and they'd only managed a month of lessons way back when Sam was ten. Oscar imagined he didn't find that many more teachers since then.  
  
"W-well, it's okay," he answered, shrugging. "It's not as big a deal to you, you're stronger than I am," he explained. Oscar's thin frame needed all the help it could get for mobility. He was frail from a lack of enough food and proper protein. He did his best, but the fact of the matter was that it was hard to get a balanced diet at their size without any help, and Oscar hadn't had help for a very long time.  
  
He smiled faintly. "If there's time before you leave I can show you how to do it. I probably have an extra needle, too."  
  
Sam gave him a surprised look back. “But…” He trailed off. In his mind, and he suspected in Dean’s, they had no intention of leaving Oscar on his own for a second time. Unlike when they were kids, Dean was the one in control of where they went and when they left.  
  
None of that meant Oscar would  _want_  to go with them, though.  
  
They’d abandoned him to survive on his own when he was barely eight years old. And he had. Years later he was still in the motel, living day to day by slipping unnoticed into rooms and grabbing what he could for food.  
  
Sam resolved to talk it over with Dean. One way or the other, they’d find a way to help their old friend. Take him with them, or find a way to get him a steady supply of food… Sam’s mind raced with the possibilities. Bobby’s house would be a hospitable place to live, compared to the motel. The interior was kept warm throughout the year, and Sam knew the inside of the walls were as cozy as any walls he’d ever explored. Outside was the burrow, and Oscar could always fit in there if he didn’t want to try the house. Compared to the littles that lived in the motels and human homes, they could provide for themselves as adeptly as any humans.  
  
“Whatever we have time for,” Sam said. He’d talk to Dean first, then see what Oscar thought. “I’d love to learn.”  
  
Oscar smiled and rearranged his pile of threads carefully, trying to make sure they wouldn't tangle or fray too far beyond use. They were delicate enough that a breeze could send them into the air beyond his reach, so he left some of his fabric untouched and wrapped them in it.  
  
That done, he glanced back up, a nostalgic glint in his eyes. "I can be your teacher again for a while," he mused, thinking of how excited he'd been as a child to have a student. Someone who looked to him for what to do, because he was the expert in living at this size. He supposed he still was an expert, because aside from Dean, no human had ever found evidence of his existence.  
  
Dean was just lucky like that. And abnormally fast.  
  
"I'm guessing climbing lessons are out. You were already as good as me by the end of that month, really, you were just hesitant." Oscar remembered Sam's careful steps as he learned to climb his new thread and pin. Now that they were grown, he doubted Sam felt the need to be so cautious. Nervousness about the height had to have diminished by now.  
  
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Dean thinks I’m crazy, but I can climb pretty much anything,  _including_  him. He still complains, but he won’t move a muscle if he knows I’m around. I don’t even need my hook with how thick his clothing is.”  
  
Sam let a hesitant grin grace his face. “Maybe after you teach me a few things, I can show  _you_  some of the things I learned. I owe you, after all. Any questions you have or skills you might be interested, let me know. Dean’s even pretty good at combat lessons with someone our size. He got used to demonstrating moves for me and showing me if I was getting them right. And we even practice him trying to catch me, so I can get some practice at escaping a human.”  
  
Oscar's eyes were wide, and if not for his slow breathing he might be a statue. The shock of simply  _imagining_  those lessons, with Dean trying to catch Sam, left Oscar frozen for a second. He could hardly handle the stress of being chased  _once._  He couldn't imagine letting it happen multiple times.  
  
"Uhm," he replied, clasping his hands in his lap to hide the concerned twitch in them. "Well ... I don't ... C-combat lessons might be wasted on me. Anything I might be able to fight is probably still too strong." He smiled sheepishly. "I didn't get as strong as you did over the years."  
  
Sam sized up his friend thoughtfully. It was obvious to anyone that looked at Sam and Oscar who was the stronger one, but strength wasn’t everything. “Don’t underestimate yourself.” He thought about the old days, when they’d run and play in the room. Acts that were simple and taken for granted for Oscar weren’t for a human… Sam couldn’t imagine Dean just scaling up the side of a cliff for  _fun,_  yet both of the smaller kids had done that more than once.  
  
“You’re shorter than we are, but remember how I was surprised that I could throw the pin so far?” Sam crossed his arms. “We’ve figured out that people  _our_  size actually seem to be stronger than humans. They can all climb without a problem. Dean might be able to climb, but  _nothing_  like we can.” He gave Oscar a reassuring look. “You can do more than you think.”  
  
Oscar smiled, his eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise. The praise lifted his spirits and he perked up out of a slump he hadn't realized had crept into his shoulders. Oscar still remembered Sam as the boy who could bicker with a  _human_  without any fear. Praise from him was a happy surprise, and Oscar was reminded of how kind his old friend really was.  
  
"I guess you're right," he admitted, glancing down at the pile of fabric and threads. He might not be able to fight monsters, but he could eke out a living in even the slow seasons at the  _Knight's Inn._  Dean was the only human that had ever spotted him or noticed his presence; otherwise, Oscar's stealth and care ensured he wasn't caught for around thirteen years on his own.  
  
He chuckled. "I think I'll leave the monster fighting to the professionals."  
  
“That’s what we’re for,” Sam said with a laugh. He knew monster hunting wasn’t for everyone. Most  _humans_  would be terrified. The world was a lot scarier for someone smaller than a finger.  
  


* * *

  
Dean shifted impatiently at the diner, checking his watch for the time.  _Fifteen minutes._  
  
He hated being out of the room for any length of time. Sam had proven he could handle himself, but it always struck Dean how vulnerable the smaller hunter could be when he was on his own. Now Sam had Oscar to look after, too. Both were adept and good at hiding, but still.  
  
It didn’t make being out of the room any easier.  
  
He finally saw the hostess coming back with a bag in her hand. With a smile plastered on his face, Dean accepted his food. It was harder to charm the ladies when he was worried about his little brother, yet she still responded warmly to his attempt.  
  
Of course, considering it was impossible to concentrate on charming a woman with Sam in his pocket, Dean just couldn’t win. Sam would always elbow him the moment the conversation started to pick up if he was in a pocket.  
  
Dean headed for the door, rolling the top of the bag down. Inside was his bacon cheeseburger, a side salad for his usually impossible-to-please little brother, and of course a slice of peach cobbler, house special.  
  
The trip back to the motel took under five minutes. He checked his watch one last time, glad to see he hadn’t passed the twenty minute mark.  _Setting records._  The diner had prepared his food swiftly, a nice change from normal where he’d be stuck standing around during the dinner rush.  
  
 _Screw that._  
  
When he got to the door, Dean leaned against it and knocked to let them know who was there. He fumbled the key briefly with his hands full, and finally managed to push it open.  
  
“Grubs up,” Dean announced as he came into the room, checking to make sure they were still on the table before he stepped over the threshold. There weren’t many reasons for them to be down on the ground so soon, but he’d never take any chances with them.  
  
Oscar was still seated on his book, eyes fixed on Dean as he entered the room. Another startled freeze overcame him, a natural reaction to being in the same room as a human. He relaxed when he saw who it was, and then remembered the two-knock system that Sam had told him. Of course it was Dean. They’d taken care to ensure Sam would always know if it was safe when Dean came in, or if it was even Dean.  
  
His eyes drifted to the bag dangling from Dean’s hand. Oscar's stomach yowled again in demand of the food he knew was within. It was so loud that even Sam might have heard it, and Oscar looked down with a blush growing on his cheeks, thankful that Dean, at least, was too far away.  
  
He occupied himself with gathering up his fabric and thread work, opening his bag, and setting it inside. He shoved things around in the container, making sure it was all organized and easy to get to.  
  
And, he thought to himself, if he could sneak a little extra food into the bag while they all ate, he'd have to take the opportunity.  
  
When the blushing receded, he looked up again. "Thanks for getting that, Dean," he said, watching the human's every step carefully so he could make sure he was out of the way on the table as the huge bag laden with food approached.  
  
Sam hopped down off of the edge of the computer, aiming to get out of the way as Dean came over to the table. The heavy thud of the hunter’s boots against the ground shook the surface under their feet.  
  
“Anytime, Oz.” Dean put the bag down to free up his hands. He cleared off the laptop, making space for everyone. The food was piping hot as he gathered it up. “One bacon cheeseburger, one salad for my crazy brother, and pie for everyone,” Dean announced as he placed it all down. “Oh, and some french fries to share.” He couldn’t help popping one in his mouth as he tried to gather up the scattered fries from the bottom of the bag.  
  
He left a bottlecap of soda next to Oscar’s seat on the book as he sat himself down. Out of everyone in the room, Dean was the only one using the table for what it was made for. He opened up all of the to-go containers he had, briefly eyeing them to make sure Oscar would be able to get to the food.  
  
Dean rubbed his hands together as he eyed up the food. “Help yourselves,” he beckoned them. After years with Sam, he knew better than to start eating dinner before they were set. Having his hands move close to them while he was eating had a tendency to put them on edge, no matter how careful he was.  
  
And it got him bitched at by Sam more than once when they were teenagers. So now he only did it when he was trying to purposely get under Sam’s skin.  
  
Oscar ignored the cap of soda. His eyes were on the food containers arranged in front of him like a maze of styrofoam and heat haze. He couldn't even say for certain that he stood taller than the burger Dean had gotten. Oscar could smell the meat and see the shine on the top bun from steam.  
  
It had been a long time since he saw this much food all in one place from so close. Over a decade.  
  
He slid hesitantly off of his book seat, and stood there for a few seconds longer before taking a few cautious steps towards the food. His stomach wanted him to dive into it, but Oscar held back.  
  
He glanced up at Dean, noting that he really seemed sincere about letting them take what they wanted first. Dean was always more generous than any human Oscar had ever seen. His fond memories hadn't exaggerated. Dean didn't have to give away any of his food, but he was.  
  
Oscar considered grabbing a smaller piece of a fry to tuck away in his bag immediately, but he held himself back despite a twitch in his hands that nearly went through with it. He wanted to take food back with him, but he thought he should wait until he knew if he could. It wasn't his feast, after all. Instead, he broke off a piece and set it aside before leaning further over the edge of the to-go container, standing right on the tips of his toes.  
  
When he had claimed a piece of bread and a crumb of the burger to wrap in it, Oscar grabbed his piece of french fry and backed off hastily. He had food grasped in each hand. "It's been ages since I had  _warm_  food!"  
  
Dean frowned at that, reminded of their friend’s plight. It was hard to shrug off, considering he felt responsible for leaving the kid on his own.  
  
 _Thank god he made it all those years._  
  
“Well, you’ll just have to stick around,” Dean said as he folded his hands around his burger. He paused before taking a bite, and ended up pinching another small piece off. “Chances are there won’t be any left in a minute,” he said dryly, leaving the tiny crumb near Oscar.  
  
Sam perched on the edge of the book with his own salad. He’d sliced the tomato and carrots up into smaller pieces, along with the cheese and folded them inside of a leaf of iceberg lettuce to make his own salad sandwich, an easy way to eat food that was too big for his size.  
  
Dean’s own sandwich was amazing, and he had to close his eyes at the first bite. “I see what the hostess meant about serving the best bacon cheeseburger in the state,” he mumbled around the sandwich.  
  
Oscar sat himself back on the book, with a little trouble thanks to how thick it was compared to his small height. He managed to perch himself without dropping any of his food, and he sat even farther back than before to make something of a table out of his lap. His feet didn't reach the floor at all now, and instead he braced them against the pages of the book.  
  
He took a few bites of the piece of burger he claimed, and then a bite of fried potato, before pausing to sigh and appreciate the smell, and the taste of the food. It had been too long. He remembered eagerly wondering what food he might get to try every time he came to visit Sam and Dean back when he was a kid. The nostalgia was nearly as strong as his liking of the food he had now.  
  
"I almost managed to get sausage and egg earlier today, but the hipster who dropped it noticed at the last second," he said conversationally, letting the first several bites settle and barely avoiding wolfing down the rest. "This is way better."  
  
“I guess so,” Sam said, staring down at his own food. He’d never had to scrounge for food to survive like that. It was hard to imagine living day-to-day, completely dependent on the whims of the people at the motel. Dean was always around, and he might get ornery and grouchy, but he could always be counted on.  
  
They enjoyed the food in companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Plenty of Sam’s salad was leftover, since he was much smaller than the side-salad the diner made. Dean didn’t finish all of his fries, but only to save room for the pie that sat to the side.  
  
“Baby, have I been waiting for you,” he said to the slice as he pulled it forward.  
  
“Should we leave you two alone?” Sam sassed him from the seat, eliciting a brief glare from his older brother.  
  
“Watch it,” Dean grumbled, “or it’ll just be me and Oz enjoying this slice of heaven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah Dean. You try and keep that food from Sam. 
> 
> **Next:** August 6th 2017 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	8. Schemes and Goodnights

Dean cut off the corner of the pie, leaving it on the napkin close to the other two. “Trust me, you don’t want to miss out on this one,” Dean advised Oscar. Sam just got a teasing nudge from the fork.  
  
Oscar  _had_  finished most of the food he started with, only faltering partway through the extra bit that Dean had given him. That was slipped into his bag surreptitiously in what he hoped was an unnoticeable action. Despite how much he’d already eaten, he wouldn't dream of missing out on the pie that Dean set near the book.  
  
His previous trepidation about approaching the freely offered food was diminished by the pleasant feeling in his belly. Oscar was well fed and he didn't even have to ration things out. He still had food in his bag to take home. A day that started out disappointing had become better than he ever could have imagined.  
  
"It smells pretty good," he commented, crouching near the piece Dean had left them. He reached out and grabbed a piece of the crust, getting the sugary filling on one side without covering his hand in the sticky stuff. He wandered back to the book, sitting on it and enjoying the dessert with a sigh.  
  
Oscar tilted his head as he absently glanced at the laptop. "So, Sam, since you save people from monsters and stuff ... does that mean other humans see you, too?"   
  
Sam bobbed his head in an affirmative as he got his own piece of pie. The messy dessert wasn’t his favorite, but Dean always insisted on getting some if the diner had it, so who was he to argue? He’d have to see about getting something chocolate one day… Surely Dean wouldn’t mind switching things up to some chocolate cake sometime in the week.  
  
Sitting back down next to Oscar, Sam thought over the question. “I’ve been seen a few times,” he said. “Sometimes by accident, but mostly when I was trying to calm down the victims.”  
  
“Sammy’s got a way with people,” Dean interjected. “He just whips out those puppy-dog eyes and gets them eating right out of his hand.”  
  
Sam gave Dean a resigned look. “ _But,_  I mostly do it when I’m with Dean. It’s amazing what standing in a hunter’s hand or on a shoulder does to them wanting to grab me. Dean gives them his most pissy face and if they even try, he’s not against knocking them out. It’s only hard when I’m on my own. People just want to grab, even if I’m helping them out or untying them.”  
  
Oscar shuddered at the thought. "That's how humans ...  _most_  humans are," he mused, thinking about advice he'd gotten from his mom way back when she was still around. "They get curious, I guess." Oscar remembered thinking Dean was just one of the curious humans, before he realized who had caught him. He smiled sheepishly. "Not all of 'em will give you food just because."  
  
Oscar finished off his piece of pie, licking a stray drop of filling off his thumb before settling his hands on his lap again. His stomach was full, almost too much, thanks to Sam and Dean freely giving him some of their food. It was a shame that most humans couldn't be counted on to be so generous, and a part of it was due to Sam being  _cursed_  to live at this size.  
  
Oscar had often wondered if Sam would find a cure for his shrunken size. Clearly he hadn't in all that time, and Oscar was too shy to ask about it. It could be a tough subject.  
  
"Maybe the people you helped will be nicer if they find people like us somewhere," he mused, a quiet hopefulness in his voice. The world was an unfriendly place for people that considered four inches to be tall. Sam's work could be indirectly making that better, one human at a time.  
  
“At least a few, I hope,” Sam agreed. “There was one girl back in Lawrence, Kansas…” He glanced over at Dean, the name escaping him.  
  
“Sari,” Dean supplied helpfully. “And her brother Richie.”  
  
Sam nodded in thanks. “Sari actually had me on her shoulder, and we got her and her little brother out of a house when a poltergeist attacked. She promised to always treat people like us right, and she was always careful around me, even before I helped save her.”  
  
Dean grinned proudly. “And Sam did all that on his own while I got their mom out of the house.”  
  
Oscar smiled faintly, thinking about how, thanks to Sam, there were a couple kids out there who would live. That girl would even know not to hurt or grab any of the little folk she might come across, which was better than most human kids might be. Just like Sam and Dean had probably saved Oscar from starving when he was just a kid, they'd gone on to help more people, and he was proud of his old friends.  
  
Oscar opened his mouth to say something, and then had to stifle an unexpected yawn with his arm. The day had been a long one, with its own stresses and revelations. It was more than enough for a tired feeling to creep in, and having a full stomach sped that along.  
  
"Sorry," he muttered, absently picking at his tattered sleeve now. "That's pretty cool, guys. No wonder the monsters are scared of you."   
  
“Just the way we like it,” Dean stated proudly.  
  
Sam nodded. Oscar’s yawn wasn’t lost on him, and they would probably need to get back to research now that they’d had a break to eat. “Did you want to head back?” he asked kindly. Their friend probably didn’t have  _this_  much excitement during his regular activities. “Dean can give you a lift, if you want. We’ll be around in the morning, so you can always stop back in before we have to go to the interviews.”  
  
“Everyone needs a good breakfast,” Dean said promptly. “Plus coffee.”  
  
Oscar chuckled breathily, thinking that he hadn't had breakfast since the last time they were there. He tended to save his meals for later in the day. If nothing else, it saved him from going to sleep hungry. Oscar hated that feeling, and avoided it whenever he could. Sometimes he managed to eat more than once a day, but he still kept the meals towards noon or later.  
  
"Coffee would keep me awake for days," he reckoned. His small frame would probably absorb the caffeine like a sponge and spread it through his system like wildfire.  
  
He glanced past Dean to the vent into the walls, the same vent he'd used to visit the brothers so many times in the past. "I ... probably  _should_  go home," he admitted sheepishly, sliding off the book to stand near it. "Been a bit of a day. No need to get up on my account, though," he said, offering a smile.   
  
“You kidding?” Dean waved that off. “It takes like, a few steps for me to get there. Sam’s always telling me I should get more exercise.” He softened the jab with a wink and stretched out a hand near Oscar and Sam.  
  
Sam hopped down off his book, brushing the pie crumbs from his jacket. One of the main problems about eating at his size was how messy it could get. Back at Bobby’s he had a set of dollhouse furniture, complete with utensils, but they weren’t the best to eat with. They were thick and clumsy compared to what his memories told him silverware  _should_  be like, and he didn’t like traveling with them. There were too many chances he’d lose them.  
  
“There’s not much use in arguing when he digs his heels in, Oscar,” Sam warned jokingly as he made his way over to the huge hand, figuring Oscar could use some support in such a big step for the little guy.  
  
"Oh, right," Oscar muttered in surprise, his eyes fixed on the hand Dean offered. He hadn't thought about how easy it really was for Dean to cross that distance. For Oscar, it'd take several minutes of furtively dashing across the floor between hiding spots to get there. Even in a room with a human he trusted, old habits died hard and would demand he find cover whenever possible.  
  
None of that was needed with his giant friend around. "Thanks," he said, following after Sam and approaching Dean's hand. He couldn't help but think back to when they were kids and he eagerly followed Sam onto Dean's palm when it was time to go exploring somewhere new. It brought a faint smile to his face.  
  
He stepped up onto Dean's hand, feeling the pulse just beneath his feet and the warmth radiating from it. The faintest muscle twitches stood out to him in his cloth shoes. Dean's fingers were all longer than his body, except maybe the pinkie. There was no chance he'd fall off the side.  
  
When they were both standing in the center of his hand, Dean stood carefully. It had been a long time since he had anyone but Sam in his hand. Most people their size didn’t care if the human was ‘safe’ or not… it was too much of a risk to put themselves directly in his power. A warm feeling grew in his chest that out of everyone out there in the world, Oscar, a guy that stood shorter than anyone they’d met aside from kids, would be so willing to let Dean carry him.  
  
Dean tucked his hand close to his chest to give them a wall on one side in case they stumbled or slipped. Sam was adjusted to the motions that came from his casual, ambling walk, but aside from the seconds where he’d caught Oscar earlier that night, their friend hadn’t experienced that in years. His other hand came up to guard the edge, but he didn’t block their sight completely. He knew that made it feel a lot more like they didn’t have any control, but these two especially  _did._  Dean would always listen when Sam and Oscar spoke.  
  
The sight of the vent was familiar to both brothers and Dean felt a smile quirk at his lips as he knelt down. How many times had he sat outside of it doing his homework while Sam went exploring with Oscar, or was helping their friend carry food to his home?  
  
Dean put his hand against the ground. “Last stop for the Dean express,” he joked as he flattened his fingers.  
  
Oscar snickered quietly as he hopped down from Dean's hand. He landed smoothly, as used to jumping down from things as he was to climbing up them. The carpet near the edge of the wall wasn't as worn down and it caught his landing easily.  
  
He turned around to peer up at Dean, his back to the dark of the vent that led towards home. It felt like such a familiar scene, him standing outside that vent and looking up at his human friend. His friend had just gotten a lot  _bigger_ , especially considering Oscar had barely grown an inch since last Dean saw him.  
  
Before he slipped into the walls and made his way home, Oscar said, "Thanks for the food and ... for letting me stay out here a while." He rubbed his arm absently. Even if the wide open space around him was unsettling at times, it was nice to be able to spend some time with his friends again. "I'm really glad you guys made it back here."  
  
Dean hesitated for a second, then gave into his first impulse. “Just wish we made it back sooner.” He reached forward with his free hand and brushed Oscar’s wild brown hair into an even bigger mess, grinning at the familiar action.  
  
He did it to Sam all the time (all that long hair made it hard to resist), but felt like more of a return to how things used to be. The way they should be.  
  
Sam gave a wave from his place standing on Dean’s hand. Since they’d be going back to the table in no time, he saw no point to getting down. “Just make sure you come visit us bright and early,” he called out. “Remember, I still know where you live. You can’t get away from me that easily.”  
  
Oscar brushed at his hair noncommittally, but he wasn't exactly sure what he planned to do with it. It had already been a mess when Dean ruffled it up. He chuckled while he patted it down anyway. "I'll try to remember," he replied. After so long, it might be tough for him to break his routine to go and see them.  
  
A small part of him still wondered if he'd made this all up. If he'd really gone crazy after so long on his own.  
  
His hands dropped to his side and he shuffled backwards until the vent was right behind him. "Good luck finding your werewolf," he bade them, before turning and crawling through the slits in the vent and disappearing into the dark.  
  


* * *

  
Sam and Dean didn’t move an inch while they watched Oscar slip back into the vents. Sam recognized a metallic thump against the ground when their friend got through the slits and into the walls. His eyes were hooded, watching Oscar vanish from view all over again.  
  
That last night, so long ago, they’d watched him leave just the same. He’d bid them farewell so cheerily, a bright glint in his eyes.  
  
A  _happy_  glint.  
  
If only they’d been able to stay just one more day…  
  
Sam hefted a sigh as the platform under him lifted away from the ground. Gravity tried to knock him from his feet and he ignored it, simply shifting so his boots were planted firmly against the ground with his knees slightly bent to absorb any of the small motions that came from standing on a living hand. Dean stood, returning to his 6’3” height in the room, staring down at the vent with equally hooded eyes.  
  
Both of them would always regret leaving Oscar behind.  
  
“What do you think?” Sam asked softly, doing his best to keep his voice down.  
  
Dean’s lips thinned and he turned towards the table. “We sure as  _hell_  ain’t just abandoning him twice,” he stated firmly.  
  
The edges of Sam’s lips turned up, glad to hear his brother was just as determined. “So, you have a plan to convince him to leave with us?”  
  
Dean just smirked back, a confident gleam in his eyes.  
  


* * *

  
When Oscar finally made it back through his doorway into his home, he pushed the door closed and leaned against it with a heavy sigh. Eyes used to the dark scanned the room without really seeing it and he slumped down to a seat, his knees drawn up to his chest. He'd lived alone there for so much of his life, and yet everything looked different tonight.  
  
His friends were back. That, or he'd had a very convincing daydream out of exhaustion. Oscar remembered the despair that had pooled in every one of the numerous shadows in his home when he'd come back after finding out they were gone.  
  
He'd been alone for so long. Oscar's hands shook and he contemplated the day from beginning to end. A colossal coincidence had brought his friends back at just the moment they needed to find him again.  
  
Things that were too good to be true should be dealt with cautiously. Oscar knew this. His friends might really be there, and they might not. He did know for sure that he couldn't get his hopes up for anything this time. Last time, he'd been left behind without expecting it. Last time, his hopes had shattered so thoroughly that Oscar hadn't really felt that kind of optimism ever since. Nothing was worth that much anguish.  
  
He took a slow breath in, and released it even more slowly. It served to collect Oscar's thoughts and ground him in reality. Whatever happened would happen. The next time Oscar's friends left, he'd be ready for it and things would go back to usual again. It was the best thing to anticipate.  
  
With his reeling thoughts slowing down, Oscar stood again and made his way through his home. He barely needed to have his tired eyes open to know where he was going. He dropped off his bag by the curtained pantry, and then shuffled into the side room where he slept in a nest of several blankets.  
  
Like a mouse, Oscar burrowed himself underneath the pile and made his way to his pillow. He shifted around, tugging the bottom edge of a few blankets under his feet to keep them warm in the chilly night. Winter had already given way to spring, but the walls remained drafty and cool.  
  
Oscar lay his head down and pulled his blankets up, hiding half his face beneath them until almost nothing was visible of him besides his mussed tuft of hair. His eyes fluttered closed and, thanks to the exhaustion of the day, he didn't even have time to murmur a  _Goodnight_  to the empty house before drifting off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The brothers are planning SOMETHING, that's for sure!
> 
> **Next:** August 9th 2017 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	9. Definitely NOT Dreaming

As the morning marched on, a familiar person came to visit Oscar’s small home hidden in the walls for the first time in over a decade.  
  
Sam brushed his hair out of his eyes, doing his best to dissuade a dustbunny from the messy locks. One thing he never missed about going into the walls was the dust, though the path to Oscar’s home was always cleaner than the walls at Bobby’s. Sam knew the little guy did his best to keep it clean enough to travel. Considering how small Oscar was, a good-sized dustbunny could really trip him up.  
  
The pathway was familiar, and he partially operated on instinct. The years had adjusted him to the dark. Compared to Dean, he had fantastic night vision, though the others his size could always see better inside the walls. He simply didn’t spend enough time in there to fully adapt.  
  
When he reached the house (after more than one tight squeeze he’d never noticed as a kid; Sam really had bulked up as he aged compared to Oscar), he couldn’t help grinning. It was so  _familiar,_  and reminded him of happy childhood memories with a feeling of home.  
  
The small ringbox sat inside, and Sam was surprised to see that he would no longer fit as easily into it anymore. The shelves that Oscar had so much trouble reaching didn’t go much over Sam’s head, maybe just a millimeter or two. Sam brushed aside the curtain hiding the pantry from the main room, looking at the supplies and food scattered inside. These supplies were what Oscar would live off of if food was scarce.  
  
There wasn’t much.  
  
Sam steeled himself. They would help Oscar. Whether he wanted to leave or not, they’d find a way.  
  
In the meantime, Sam had a mission.  
  
He banged on the wall that connected to Oscar’s room, aiming to wake their old friend. “Hey, Oscar!” Sam called out, though he still kept his voice down in respect of the humans that might be nearby.  
  


* * *

  
Oscar's eyes flew open and he tried to sit up. He was too tangled in his blankets to manage it, but he peered around with wide eyes anyway. The confusion of sleep still clouded everything, and he couldn't tell for a moment what had woken him.  
  
His name had been called, or so he thought. There was a noise on the other side of the wall. Maybe. Oscar blinked rapidly and freed one of his arms from his blanket nest to rub at his eyes.  
  
For a moment, panic surged into his system. If there was a human knocking around at the walls, they could find his home and him and he'd be captured. Then, he realized in a moment of clarity, an intruding human wouldn't know his name. The voice slowly made sense to him and he flopped back down on his bed with a huff.  
  
_He's really here. I didn't dream all that up. That's_  Sam.  
  
Despite the hopeful, relieved thoughts, Oscar groused "Whaaaat?!" He was entirely unused to having someone come and wake him. In fact, he'd made his own schedule for over a decade. Oscar slept until he wasn't tired, and then went about his day. It was just the way things were.  
  
"Sam, what're you ..." he paused to yawn. "Doin' here?"  
  
“Getting  _you!_ ” Sam called out with a wry smile. “What else? Told you I remembered where you lived!”  
  
While he was standing by the shelves, Sam picked up a shard of a cracker, touching it with his finger and frowning at the size of it. It was more than time for Oscar to have some real food. Sam remembered him saying that he’d had a chance to grab breakfast the morning before only to have it snatched away at the last second.  
  
“C’mon!” Sam idly started to rearrange the shelves. “You think Dean’s just going to wait around all day for us? I’m betting one of these days he’ll think it’s a good idea to try and follow us down a vent! You’d be surprised at the places he gets himself into.” Sam had a broad grin on his face by the end. Dean had fit into more than one ventilation system in a building, but this wasn’t destined to be one of them. The metal walls of the vent were about half the width of the hunter’s shoulders, at least.  
  
Oscar let out a slow sigh. He let himself wake up the rest of the way while he lay there, blinking away the sleep. He remembered laughing with Sam once upon a time, both of them imagining Dean getting stuck in the vents trying to follow them to Oscar's house.  
  
As he woke up, he noticed the sounds out in the main room of his home and frowned. "What?!" he blurted, sitting up again. It took him a few tries to extract himself from his blankets. He nearly lost a cloth shoe amongst the pile as he untangled himself, and finally staggered through the doorway in time to see what Sam was up to.  
  
Oscar's face erupted into an indignant blush at the sight of all of his supplies moved to the top shelves of his pantry and around his home. "Sam!" he complained, turning an exasperated gaze up at his ridiculously tall friend before rushing forward to reach up and grab things to move them back. He could hardly reach the top shelves, even after growing up fully. He was just too short for them.  
  
Sam grinned barely able to keep from cracking up. An entire life with Dean had him prepared for dealing with someone that was reluctant to get out of bed. “Told you to come to our room in the morning!” Sam reminded Oscar with a shit-eating grin. “Next time maybe you’ll get out here in time.”  
  
With Oscar trying his best to put things back in order (many items out of his reach without a step up to reach them), Sam snagged the back of his shirt in one hand and the worn grey bag in his other. “Good to see you up. Now, it’s time to go.” He strolled towards the entrance to the cozy home, Oscar brought along as easily as a puppy. “You can fix those later. I’ll  _give you a hand_.”  
  
Oscar stared down at the floor in shock. His feet weren't on the ground, courtesy of Sam's casual strength hoisting him off his feet as he carried him towards the door. Oscar was feather light. It made it laughably easy for Sam to haul him around, and there was no stopping him.  
  
He squirmed and kicked his legs in surprise. "Sam," he groaned, trying to look behind at the shelves that had been rearranged. His cheeks blushed fire. He was too short to reach his own shelves. Sam must be remembering way back when Oscar had to climb on his counter to reach.  
  
"Gimme a break, I'm not used to waking up early," he groused, trying to reach behind himself and grab Sam's arm to secure his release. He couldn't manage it and he huffed even as they reached his door. "I had everything organized to a system, I hope you realize," he pouted.  
  
“And you’ll have plenty of time to organize it  _later,_ ” Sam countered expertly. When he pushed them both out the door, he paused to nudge it shut. The block that Oscar used for a door shifted easily under his greater strength. Years of better nutrition and training to hunt had paid off for Sam, and he fully intended to pay it forward to the one person he had to thank for his skills.  
  
Even if Oscar disagreed.  
  
Sam took off down the worn pathway, following it unerringly back to the vent. “It’s time to live a little,” he told his skeptical friend, not giving up his grip so long as it was likely that Oscar would try to dart back to his home. “You’ll thank me after we get back.”  
  
Oscar continued to squirm uncomfortably for a few more steps. No matter how he tried, he couldn't get his feet to reach the floor. Sam was too tall and he had too secure of a grip on Oscar's shirt. Oscar huffed, his face still burning with embarrassment. "At least let me walk on my own," he complained. "And gimme my bag back, please?"  
  
He sent Sam a sullen look. Considering Oscar had only woken up not ten minutes before, he was still dazed and sluggish. He'd gone to bed on a full stomach after a long day. Sleep had taken ahold of him almost as strongly as Sam’s grip on the back of his shirt.  
  
Sam held Oscar out in front for a second, looking him over. He was practically pouting while he dangled in the air. Arching his eyebrows, Sam told him “No running off, otherwise we’ll be right back here in no time.” Oscar was better at staying out of sight, but it was clear which of them would be the better runner. Sam prized himself on his speed, waking up most mornings long before Dean ever stirred to run a few quick laps around the room they were staying in. It was safer to do while the hunter wasn’t moving around, and if they weren’t on a case, Dean would normally grab his chance for some extra sleep.  
  
Dropping Oscar down an inch in front, Sam held out the grey cloth bag with an encouraging smile. “We’ll have you back home to organize your shelves in no time, promise.”  
  
Oscar nearly stumbled, but managed to hold onto his balance enough to plant his feet firmly in the dusty passage. He took time and care to make sure his pathways were clearer than most of the motel walls in the area. It was easier to travel silently without dust scraping along the ground under his cloth shoes, after all. He snatched his bag back and fumbled the strap over his head with a yawn.  
  
They resumed the trek back to the room, Oscar glancing around like he always did. Always alert. Outside of his home, he had to be watchful. He brushed a hand through his hair, settling it into some semblance of order as they went. "So ... what's the plan, then? Why'd ya drag me out of my house? Did you guys already take care of the werewolf?"  
  
“Nope.” Sam let Oscar take the lead. It was his home turf, after all. No one knew this dark passageway better. This time, Sam could actually make out all the details he’d missed before. His eyes hadn’t adjusted back then, and most trips through the walls he’d be holding onto the younger boy’s arm.  
  
“Around lunchtime, Dean’s planning on going down to the Coroner's office. He wants to make  _sure_  the body is just missing its heart. If we go into a fight without knowing for certain it’s a werewolf, we could get ourselves killed.” Despite his words, Sam displayed nothing but confidence. Together, the two hunters were some of the best out there. “That’s why we do so much research before going into a fight. The smallest detail can mean you’re dealing with something completely different, which might mean the silver bullets Dean has in his gun won’t do us any good.”  
  
Sam slung an arm around Oscar’s thin shoulders. “Until then, we figured you could use some fresh air after all these years!”  
  
Oscar might have stopped in his tracks in surprise, but with Sam's arm resting on his shoulders, he continued to stumble forward. Sam was just the right height to make use of Oscar as an armrest and he was definitely strong enough to keep him moving along without slowing down. "You mean going  _outside,_ " he realized with a frown. He still couldn't stop walking with Sam guiding him forward, and soon they were at the opening into the air ducts.  
  
"I haven't been outside since ... well, since you were here last," he admitted, sounding as hesitant as he looked. Oscar may have grown since he was a timid little kid, but he'd only come to realize just how big the world out there was. He was nervous.  
  
"M-maybe I'll just stay inside the room," he suggested, though there wasn't much hope in the words. Sam was determined, and Oscar remembered that at times Dean was even more so.  
  
“That’s why you should come with us  _now_ ,” Sam said reassuringly. “You’ve got us around, and nothing bad’s going to happen to us. Me and Dean do this all the time, trust me.”  
  
He glanced through the slits of the vent, spotting Dean’s shadow close by. While Sam ran to get Oscar ready, Dean had gotten his shower. He must have finished faster than normal, and Sam hid a smile. He wasn’t the only one excited to have finally found their old friend once more.  
  
Sam gestured toward the vent. “Let’s not keep Dean waiting, okay?”  
  
Oscar hesitated, his feet planted while he deliberated. He glanced between Sam and the vent opening, knowing the ceiling would loom far overhead as soon as they stepped into the light. There was a time that didn't bother him at all, but Oscar had had a lot more time to get used to hiding, waiting in the shadows and avoiding open space whenever he could.  
  
It took him several seconds to arrive at a decision, and he was glad that Sam didn't force him out into the open. He needed to do this himself or he'd be even more on edge.  
  
"Okay," he said quietly, feeling a bit like a little kid again. His hesitation chipped away at the reminder that Sam and Dean really would look out for him. They always had, and the only time they couldn't was when their dad dragged them away. "Just for a while." He inched towards the vent, peeking out before stepping up onto the base to slip out into the light.  
  
As the two smaller people slipped out of the walls and back into open air, Dean was watching from above. He was leaning against the wall with his feet crossed at the ankle and arms crossed over his chest. A wry grin touched his face as he saw Oscar’s skittish movements even as he came out to the room.  
  
Sam had made Dean promise to be on his best behavior, after being gone from the motel for well over a decade. They didn’t want to risk startling Oscar more than they’d already done the day before. They knew how timid he could be. One wrong move might make him want to go back to the familiarity of his walls.  
  
So Dean didn’t scoop them up the moment they were through like he would have done years ago. Back then it had been a more casual, carefree trust. With the long years that stretched out since then, Dean wanted the chance to earn it back.  
  
Instead, he knelt down on the floor about a foot away. “Hey, Oz,” he greeted. He held a hand against the ground and flattened it. “You guys ready to head out? Coffee is a  _must._ ”  
  
Oscar couldn't help a bemused smile. He'd never had coffee before, but he knew the heavy aroma that filled many of the motel rooms early in the morning. Many humans swore by the stuff, and he found himself curious about it. "Guess I better try it, if it's that good," he mused, inching towards the hand.  
  
He had to glance down and away from Dean's grin to watch his step onto the offered hand. He didn't want to risk tripping as he walked on a surface he hadn't walked on in so long. Even back then, he'd never been perfectly balanced on Dean's palm.  
  
Oscar paused to look back at Sam, and then his vent before releasing a quiet sigh. He wasn't sure if he was  _really_  ready to head back outside after so long in the safety of the walls, but he was willing to find out. Sam was right. They would be there the entire time and make sure no one spotted him.   
  
Oscar was safe.  
  
Dean waited for the pair to settle in the center of his hand. The weight of Sam down there was as familiar his own shadow. Oscar, on the other hand, was so light he was almost a tickle.  
  
_Was he always this small?_  
  
Try as he might, Dean couldn’t remember how heavy Oscar had seemed as a kid, only that he’d been smaller and scrawnier than Sam had ever been. All these years later, Dean’s hands were much larger and stronger, and the skin callused from all the years working on the Impala and his weapons. Oscar was hard to notice.  
  
“Time to get this show on the road,” Dean announced jauntily as he went to stand back up. His other hand instinctively cupped around the one holding Sam and Oscar, and when the little guy wavered in place Sam put a hand on his arm. When he was standing, Dean propped open the flap of his pocket and held his hand right over it. “Just like old times!”  
  
Oscar leaned forward to stare down into the pocket. It was a view he hadn't seen in so long, and yet it was perfectly familiar. He'd hidden himself away in Dean's pockets numerous times when they were kids. Back then, Oscar hadn't been able to reach the top edge to see out, and he realized with reddening cheeks that he'd  _still_  be too short.  
  
"Yeah, pretty much," he mumbled, crouching down on the edge of Dean's hand. He took a slow breath before pushing off and falling right into the cloth enclosure, sinking to his knees at the bottom.  
  
He scooted to the side, tucking himself into a corner with his fingers slipping between the weave of the shirt to grip it tightly. Once he was secure, Oscar blinked upwards, his eyes wide at the sight of a view from inside a pocket. He never thought he'd see that again. Or, at least, he never thought he'd see it and not be terrified of whomever had just captured him in their pocket. Dean would never trap him.  
  
"Your pockets got bigger," he observed sourly, a mock pout on his face.  
  
Sam dropped in after him, landing on the other side of the pocket. The bottom dipped beneath his greater weight, almost tossing Oscar off balance. Together the two of them only barely weighed down the pocket, resulting in a light weight resting just over Dean’s heart.  
  
Dean chuckled at the sight. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he said wryly. “Turns out the pockets they make in clothing get bigger when you grow up. I think Sam grew with the pockets so he never noticed the difference.”  
  
“I  _noticed,_ ” Sam complained. He reached over to Oscar and picked him up by the scruff of his shirt, but this time it was only to hold him up to the edge of the pocket so he could see out. Oscar gasped and hung his arms over the edge to hang on. His feet didn’t reach the bottom of the pocket that way.  
  
Sam resumed griping at Dean once he knew Oscar wouldn’t fall. “Just a part of living with your giant ass, I guess.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes as he patted down his jeans pockets and made sure he was ready to go. “Whatever, shrimp.” A mischievous glint lit up his eyes and he patted the pocket they were standing in. “Just so long as we know who’s in charge.”  
  
“Yeah, me!” came out of the pocket as Sam pushed stubbornly pushed his luck and got a poke in return.  
  
Oscar wasn't sure how he managed to hang on to the edge of the pocket, but even after Dean patted them both, he was still clinging. He could see the room from high up again, though some of his focus was distracted. His shoes braced awkwardly against the fabric to keep himself from falling back into Dean's pocket.  
  
It was remarkable to witness the casual banter between Sam and Dean. They acted like any brothers, regardless of their size difference. There was a lot of trust between them. Oscar had to wonder if he'd be like that, too, if he had managed to leave with them all those years ago.  
  
He looked straight up to look Dean in the eye in an upside down view. "Where're you gonna go to get your coffee?" he asked curiously, glad he'd at least be hidden in the pocket while they were outside.  
  
Dean glanced down and had to grin at the sight of Oscar clinging to the edge of the pocket. Sam had never had much trouble seeing out of the pockets on the shirts and jackets he wore, but every time he saw Sam next to someone standing on the same scale, he was reminded that Sam was actually tall. 6’4” if it wasn’t for the curse, a number Dean was able to glean from the scale he’d worked out back when Sam was first cursed.  
  
All he had to do was take Sam’s original height as a human and figure out how many times smaller he was at his new, cursed height. It was around nineteen times smaller, a ridiculous number if he stopped to think about it. Oscar would probably be right in the five foot range if he was on Dean’s scale instead, and Dean determined that he’d have to find out at one point.  
  
“There’s a place right down the street,” Dean told them, keeping his voice down low with them directly up against his chest. “I saw it when I was picking up dinner last night. Just a short walk away.”  
  
With them set, he went to reach for the doorknob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RUDE, Sam. Dragging a guy out of his room! He was not ready.
> 
> Sam and Dean's solution to getting Oscar? FEED HIM BREAKFAST
> 
> and literally. just. drag him out of his home.
> 
>  **Next:** August 13th 2017 at 9pm est


	10. According to Plan

A short walk away was probably an impossible journey for Oscar on his own, for so many reasons. The distance itself might be doable, considering he walked all over the motel daily. The sense of exposure and the risks of being spotted by an animal or a human were the real problems. That thought alone made even a short walk with Dean take on an adventurous feel, and Oscar's stomach erupted with butterflies.  
  
Before any light from outside could filter in, he released his hold on the edge of the pocket and dropped to the bottom with a quiet "Oof!" Oscar could still feel the rush of crisp, fresh air, and he shuddered from the chill before huddling in the corner of Dean's pocket. Once there, he hardly moved a muscle.  
  
Sunlight reached them in the pocket, peeking around the edges when it could. Oscar squinted, but kept his gaze upward. He caught glimpses of the sky. "I almost forgot what this is like," he murmured.  
  
Sam let himself slide down next to Oscar just as Dean strolled past the Impala, leaving the black classic car resting in her parking spot. The diner was close and Sam always complained that Dean should exercise more. Sam could run laps in a motel room without a problem, Dean needed more space to get the same workout.  
  
“I kinda have trouble remembering what it was like  _before_  I traveled like this all the time,” Sam admitted. The pocket swayed around them to Dean’s ambling walk, which had become more pronounced, if anything, after he’d reached his full height. Sensations like that were Sam’s entire world. The only reason he even remembered what a motel room was  _supposed_  to look like when he’d been human was because of the time he spent sitting on Dean’s shoulder. Up there he got a much better perspective on things than down on the floor.  
  
Oscar nodded in understanding. Sam used to be much bigger, but it was so long ago. Much like Oscar's memories of his mother, Sam's had to be soft around the edges when he thought about his childhood. Everything was very different and they'd both had to adjust to a lot more than any kid should have to.  
  
Oscar had thought back then, with stars in his eyes, that maybe the hardship brought on by losing his mom might come to an end. If that had come true, he might be just as used to traveling in a pocket as Sam. He couldn't even imagine it.  
  
"So, you ... um. Your curse ..." he stammered, wondering if there really was a good way to bring that up. "It doesn't seem like it stopped you at all if you can stand up to werewolves."  
  
Sam nodded. Talking about the curse didn’t bother him anymore. It was simply the way his life was nowadays. Oscar, of all people, could understand. “I don’t let it hold me back,” he said. He brushed a hand through his hair, which was eternally mussed by the pocket. “I just can’t approach things like Dean does or it’ll get me killed. Same as Dean can’t approach things like  _we_  do.”  
  
He leaned back into the corner, pulling his grey bag onto his lap to get comfortable. “I can’t do much when it comes to taking on a werewolf or a shapeshifter, sure. Me and you will probably do about the same amount of damage with our knives, even though you’re a bit shorter. But what I  _can_  do is distract the werewolf when it goes to bite Dean. Or untie Dean when the monster catches him off guard. We’re a team. We can do more than most hunters can just by working together.”  
  
Oscar had to smile. Even before, it was easy to see that Sam and Dean could work together well. Even if they bickered more than once, there was always a sense of how close they were. They were all they had, after all. "It sounds amazing. I don't even work that well with the people on the other side of the motel," he confessed.  
  
He shifted slightly, moving his bag so it wasn't squishing against his side. The sway of Dean's steps matched up in a weird rhythm with the beating of his heart, keeping Oscar alert. The chill of the air barely reached him, thanks to the proximity to a human and all his body heat. "You made your own normal," he realized with a half-smile. "Just like me."  
  
Sam grinned back in agreement. “We always will.”  
  


* * *

  
The walk to the diner took no more than five minutes, and Dean was already growing impatient.  
  
He could hear the tiny pair in his pocket, just the slightest murmur of voices that were too low for him to make out if he listened. He was too big, and his ears too far away. The gentlest breeze could snatch away the muffled conversation with ease.  
  
 _At least we can talk at the diner,_  he thought to himself. He did it all the time with Sam. Ask for an out-of-the-way booth, confiscate a stand-up menu, block off an area for his little brother to sit and enjoy his own meal. All these years after Sam’s curse, it was practically a tradition between the two brothers. Ordering food in the room was limited, and even going out for take out wasn’t as good. Here, they’d be served breakfast hot and fresh right off the stove. Dean’s stomach rumbled in agreement at the thought, and at the delectable smells that wafted towards him on the breeze.  
  
Dean only spared a brief glance down at his chest to make sure the small lump that made up his little brother and one of their best friends was innocuous and easy to overlook, and he pushed open the door to the restaurant.  
  


* * *

  
Oscar managed to shrink into himself and look even smaller than he already did. The innocent jingle of a bell somewhere above them preceded the sounds of a restaurant. Staff and customers alike could be heard mingling outside the confines of the pocket and Oscar's eyes widened. He didn't remember being around that many humans at once, not in thirteen years. Last time had been a day at school with Sam and Dean, tucked away in the human's hood.  
  
He took a few deep breaths, momentary relief washing over his face at the delectable smells in the air. Food, and lots of it, was all around them. It was flavorful and fresh, two things Oscar didn't get very often. That aroma was a worthy distraction from the knowledge of how many humans waited out there.  
  
His stomach paid attention, even though he'd had so much to eat the night before. Oscar usually only had one meal a day. Breakfast was often ignored or foregone, because he simply didn't have the food around to eat too much. It was mostly exciting, thinking about getting more food at least while Sam and Dean were there, but Oscar was also a little nervous.  
  
"He's just gonna grab something and head back to the room, right?" he asked, looking across the pocket at Sam.  
  
“Well…” Sam trailed off as he wondered how to break the news to Oscar that they’d be eating  _at_  the restaurant, and not in the room. The brothers did it all the time.  
  
He didn’t get another word out before a voice from outside broke in and interrupted them. “Hi, sir!” Sam rolled his eyes at the peppy tone of the woman. Dean  _always_ got that reaction. “Are you waiting on anyone?”  
  
“Nope, it’s just me,” Dean replied, his voice rumbling around his pocket and his two passengers. It was louder than his normal speaking voice with them. He’d adapted to having a tiny little brother, and easily slipped back into the volume he used around humans. “In fact, I wouldn’t mind…” And here the pocket tilted around them as Dean leaned towards the hostess. Sam could only assume he was trying to charm her like all the other women. “...having that booth in the back.”  
  
Sam gave Oscar a sheepish grin as Dean began to amble behind the woman. “We eat in diners like this all the time,” he reassured the smaller guy. “The food is fresher, and tastes better than if we took it back to the room. Trust me. You’ll love it. We’ll find a place to hide where no one else will see us.”  
  
Oscar's jaw dropped. He believed Sam that they did this all the time, and clearly Sam was perfectly fine, not worried about things in the least. The brothers were used to going about with Sam along for the ride, always making it work. They were the experts.  
  
None of that calmed Oscar's heartbeat. They were about to be in a room full of other humans, humans that he didn't know and had no reason to trust. It would only take one glance for them to see him if he wasn't hidden well enough. "What if..." squeaked out of his mouth, but he shut up quickly once more.  
  
It was one thing to know that they did this all the time. It was quite another to dive into it himself without knowing ahead of time. He should have asked sooner. "Th-they won't see us? For sure?" he asked, wanting to put as much trust in Sam and Dean as he could. He couldn't help but worry at least a  _little._  
  
“For sure,” Sam soothed. “Dean will put a standing menu between us and the end of the table, and it’ll be like hiding behind a wall. Our voices are too soft to carry in a busy restaurant and the only risk we’ll be running is people thinking Dean’s crazy for talking to himself.”  
  
“Here you are, sir!” cut loudly across Sam’s small speech, and then the pocket they were in dropped straight down in the way that always happened when Dean sat. Even Sam clung to the edges of the pocket. There was no way to really prepare for sudden zero-g as their stomachs were left behind.  
  
“Your waitress will be with you shortly, and just holler if you need anything!” the hostess finished up before leaving Dean behind at his table.  
  
“See?” Sam asked. “Nothing to i--”  
  
He was cut off by the top of the pocket widening, and thick fingers slipping in. Only three were able to fit with the other two already inside, but they expertly dipped under Sam and Oscar.  
  
"Ah," Oscar let out quietly, a startled noise dwindling into a resigned one. His heart pounded and he was beyond nervous about being out on a table in a room full of humans, but he'd try to trust in his friends. They wouldn't let him down.  
  
He kept himself curled into a huddled shape as the fingers curled around him and Sam, drawing them out of the pocket. His eyes were shut and he clung to his bag as they lifted into semi-open air with Dean's hand protectively around them. "It'll be fine it'll be fine it'll be  _fine,_ " he mumbled to himself, so quietly that even Sam wouldn't hear. He definitely wasn't used to this.  
  
The hand lowered again and Oscar peeked his eyes open. There was a shadow between them and the bright overhead lights of the restaurant. A standing menu. Oscar took a slow breath and stumbled off of Dean's hand before sinking down to sit behind the menu with another long sigh.  
  
Sam was slower as he stepped off of Dean’s hand behind Oscar, sending his older brother a quick thumbs up as he slipped behind the menu. It was angled in such a way that Dean could see behind it, and they could make out about half of the hunter without having to lean around it. Just the way he always ate at restaurants.  
  
The back of his neck tingled constantly while they were there, but it was only of passing interest. If anyone actually glanced in his direction, the sensation would spike like a red hot iron, and if that happened all he would need to do was flag Dean and the hunter would get them out of there.  
  
Sam sat down next to Oscar, nothing but confidence in his posture. “Hey, everything’s under control. You don’t have to be nervous.”  
  
Oscar, still clinging to his bag, tried to unfold his huddled position. He succeeded a little, but he was still clearly on the alert as he looked up at Sam. At least he wasn't on his own. His friend served as an anchor. He'd be fine.  
  
"Y-yeah," he answered quietly, taking a few more breaths to unwind the tension in his shoulders. It took a lot of work, and he was still far more alert than usual, but he was making progress.   
  
"I'm just used to ... if I got stuck in a hiding place like this on my own I'd be in so much trouble," he tried to explain. He'd grown up so differently compared to Sam. Oscar hadn't been able to rely on anyone to help him stay out of trouble. It was all on his skinny shoulders. "I guess I could work on my bravery," he added in a quieter voice, aiming a sheepish smile at his shoes.  
  
The clink of dishware came from behind them, and Dean started to talk to their waitress. He was getting his coffee cup filled, something that was instantly clear to Sam with how adjusted he was to the hunter’s normal routine.  
  
Dean ordered his meal, and the waitress left. Sam leaned over to Oscar. “You’re  _plenty_  brave, don’t you see? You don’t have someone like Dean to rely on, yet you go out into the motel rooms all the time.”  
  
The menu shifted slightly, and Dean peeked down at them. “Food’s on the way,” he winked, then set down a steaming hot bottlecap of coffee along with a tiny cup of creamer and a packet of sugar. “Figured you guys would want some coffee to wake up with.”  
  
Oscar took another slow breath, but this time it was to appreciate the aroma coming off the bottle cap Dean left them. He leaned forward slightly to hold out a hand, hovering it over the cap. Warmth radiated upwards and heated his small fingers, and Oscar let himself smile faintly.  
  
Sam Winchester, who distracted werewolves and helped his enormous human brother fight ghosts and other monsters, had pointed out that Oscar was brave after all. After living his entire life admiring how brave  _Sam_  was, it was nice to receive the compliment in return.  
  
"Thanks," he said aloud, and it could have been for Sam or for Dean. Really, it was for both. He glanced over at Sam. "I'll ... probably let you mix it up."  
  
Dean scoffed as he sat back up. “He’ll put so much cream and sugar in it it’s barely coffee anymore.” He shared a smile with the waitress as she sashayed by. If he didn’t have two guys around his room all the time, he’d be trying to get her phone number.  
  
Sam flipped Dean off, then pulled the cap closer. He carefully grabbed it at the top, away from the hot sides. “It’s easy,” he reassured Oscar. He ripped open the sugar packet and tipped it into the hot liquid. They both watched the pebble sized crystals fall into the heat to melt into nothing. With an impish smile, Sam pinched one of the sugar rocks from the packet and offered it to Oscar. “These are the best part,” he confided in his friend, then took the cream to finish off their drink.  
  
Oscar held the sugar crystal in his palm, ignoring it for a second while he watched the cream swirl around in the hot liquid and slowly change its color from the deep brownish-black to a warm light brown color. The aroma became sweeter and he watched the swirls of color curiously before remembering the sugar crystal in his hand.  
  
It was small, even to him. Oscar popped the sugar into his mouth curiously and his eyes widened briefly at how strong the sweet flavor was. The lump of sugar melted quickly in his mouth, leaving him little time to savor it, but Oscar smiled faintly anyway.  
  
"I'll have to remember that. They keep a few packets in the office with the coffee machine in there," he mused while he reached into his bag to retrieve his aluminum foil cup. He fixed its slightly squished shape and filled it partway from the bottle cap and sat back against the menu. While he waited for it to cool, he glanced up and watched the shadows on the wall cast by the various humans walking by. "So no one's ever spotted you in a diner like this?"  
  
“Not once,” Sam said, still confident. The coffee was ready at last, and he reached into his bag. Years ago Oscar had taught him how to make cups his size out of aluminum foil. The metallic material was easy to mold, and so he formed himself a coffee mug out of it. He displayed the handle to Oscar. “This helps keep you from burning your hand if the coffee’s too hot. Just like the handle Dean has on his mug.”  
  
Dipping the edge of his homemade cup into the bottlecap, Sam filled up the mug with a drop of coffee. Steam rose from it, but since their cups were so much smaller than Dean’s, they would cool faster. Dean must have burnt  _all_  sensation from his mouth at some point. Sam saw him sipping at the scalding drink without flinching.  
  
It was just like the way that Dean could stomach that hard whiskey Bobby kept around his home.  
  
“Just let it cool like we let the hot chocolate cool back when we were kids,” Sam said as a touch of nostalgia washed over him like a gentle wave, drawing him back a decade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a feeling that if they'd told Oscar what the plan was, he would have wanted to stay home pls.
> 
> **Next:** August 16th 2017 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	11. Nostalgia

Oscar's smile returned, a little wider this time as he remembered exactly the day Sam was talking about. The snow day from school had brought a lot of excitement their way, as well as some very cold hands. The hot chocolate helped, enough that Oscar remembered wanting to lean on the big mug that Dean was using for his drink.  
  
"We got into so much back then," he said, letting the nostalgia take him down the same path as Sam. It eased a lot of his nerves about where they were. "I can  _still_ remember the Jurassic Park music better than I can remember the actual movie. Since I covered my eyes through most of it."  
  
“Maybe next time you’ll actually  _watch_  the movie,” Dean interjected lightly, remembering the two kids huddling under his hand while they watched. He’d found out quickly that they felt more secure in an enclosed area, and lucky for them he was big enough to supply that without a problem.  
  
Sam bobbed his head. “I’m sure we could find it online when we get back tonight if we tried,” he mused out loud. It was amazing how far the internet had come in the most recent years, to the point where they could find a ton of lore on their cases without having to leave the room. Of course, it meant they had to sift through a ton of  _crap_  to find what was true and what wasn’t, but it was still easier for Sam to find information on his own without having to waste time turning huge pages.  
  
He threw a look at Oscar. “ ‘Course, the screen won't be anywhere near as big as it was in the theater.”  
  
Oscar masked his sheepish grin by taking his first sip of coffee. The warm liquid was just short of scalding, but the sweet flavor helped and he swallowed it down after savoring it. Anything warm was usually welcome; his skinny frame didn’t hold warmth very easily.  
  
"It was hard to see the whole screen back then anyway," he admitted. The cinema screen, designed to be big even for humans, was simply too huge for Oscar to really comprehend everything on it with ease. Or he was simply too scared of the monstrous dinosaurs in the movie. "It'd be fun to finally try to see it again, though, if you've got time around your monster hunting."  
  
“Well,” Dean said around a shrug and a sip of his coffee, “we’ll just have to see. We could be back in the room at any time tonight, depending on how things go. Or we could be stuck out until the morning. You can never tell with a case.”  
  
The waitress arrived with their food then, a cheery greeting for Dean on her lips. She put down a huge plate of food in front of the hunter. It was practically a sampler platter of everything the diner had to offer for breakfast, complete with the sausage and eggs just for Oscar after he’d missed out on food the morning before. Dean might not come off as the most perceptive guy most days, but he had his moments. At least he had a way to lead enemies into a false sense of security.  
  
After a few words were exchanged with the waitress and she let him be in his darker corner of the diner, Dean nudged the menu slightly to the side so he could see Sam past the bold letters declaring ‘Triple-Fudge Chocolate Cake’ special. “Grubs up, guys.”  
  
Sam bounced to his feet, drawn by the savory smells that made it into their corner. “Ready?” he asked Oscar eagerly.  
  
"Uhm," Oscar answered with wide eyes, staring up at Sam before glancing to the side. There was a mountain of food on the table now, and it was throwing off a delectable aroma that nearly overwhelmed the smell of the coffee in his little aluminum cup. He took another sip of it to delay his decision before setting it down next to Sam's makeshift mug.  
  
He pushed himself to his feet with his back still pressed against the standing menu and his eyes glued to the food that was still  _steaming._  His stomach caught on and begged him to just  _go get it_ , but he couldn't rush out.  
  
He took a few slow breaths. He could do this. He only needed to be out in the open for a few seconds, and he had help around. "Yeah, I think so," he answered with a nod, inching towards the edge of the menu so he could see more past Dean and make sure he was in the clear.  
  
Sam followed suit, his own eyes keen. Though he wasn’t afraid of being in the diner, he would always be wary. Being in an area with so many giants around was dangerous, no matter how many times he did it. Children could dart by the table and grab him on a whim, someone could see him near Dean’s plate and think he was a mouse and screech out in alarm… A million and a half things could go wrong that they watched out for.  
  
That was what his extra sense was best for. The low-level tingle on the back of his neck let him know that even though there were plenty of people around, none of them were focusing in the direction of Dean’s table. If it ever spiked, Sam would dive for cover. He’d even dove up Dean’s  _sleeve_  from time to time, huddling down against the muscular arm for safety. Dean would never be dangerous for him.  
  
“No one’s looking,” Sam whispered confidently to Oscar before slipping out from cover. The aroma of the food drew him to the plate, and he sidestepped around Dean’s hand, resting casually nearby. He knew from experience that if anyone’s path wandered close to the table, he’d find himself either covered by that hand or grabbed into a fist, depending on how Dean reacted. The older hunter tried to stray away from ever grabbing Sam up, but sometimes it was unavoidable, especially if an excited kid caught sight of the little guy. Sam didn’t mind, since Dean was always cautious with his grabs, but it was very disorienting to be suddenly swept up into a loose fist.  
  
Oscar's eyes widened and he followed Sam with less confidence and plenty of confusion. He continued to look around for anyone that might spot him, but it seemed that Sam was right. No one was near enough to pay them any attention. Oscar passed Dean's hand as well, approaching the plate of warm food and coming up alongside Sam.  
  
He glanced at both brothers with his hands clasped in front of himself before leaning forward to take a bit of scrambled egg, the fluffy yellow food tearing away easily. He couldn't help glancing up again, watching for other humans. "How did you know nobody was looking?" he asked in a whisper. Oscar had lived his whole life on his own, watching out for humans, and even he could never say with such certainty if he'd been spotted.  
  
Sam was caught off guard by the question. “Uhh… I dunno. I just can.” He shrugged. “A few years after the curse, I started to get this weird feeling on the back of my neck whenever Dean glanced at me.”  
  
Sam gestured at his neck, trying to indicate where he got it. There was only a feather light touch there, only increasing a little when Dean turned his eyes briefly down at the two guys next to his food. Sam looked up at him sheepishly. They didn’t mention it most days, but it was always there.  
  
“He got  _real_  good at hiding from me after  _that_  started,” Dean commented dryly.  
  
“If a stranger sees me, or someone looks my way and  _wants_  to grab me, I’ll know,” Sam went on. “It even works if I’m on Dean’s shoulder and someone glances his way. It’s stronger if it’s  _me_  they see. And if there’s a lot of people… all at once… it starts to burn.” He frowned thoughtfully as he gathered up some food for himself. “You don’t get anything like that?”  
  
Oscar shook his head, his eyes absently on the plate in front of them, with portions that nearly stood taller than him. He snatched up a crumb of sausage after a moment's hesitation, before stepping back and considering his answer.  "I never get a feeling that intense," he admitted. "I just have to watch and wait a lot."  
  
He flinched at the sound of a raucous laugh across the room and shrugged. "I think I'd be a lot less stressed out if I had something like that," he quipped. That said, he found himself backing towards the standing menu again, his hands full of food and his eyes on the space around them.  
  
Sam followed behind, at ease with turning his back on the expansive room behind them. “Huh. For some reason I always thought everyone could do it.” He was quiet as he nibbled on his egg, internally mulling over the way that he didn’t really fit in with either humans  _or_  the people his own size. Too small to really be called a human anymore, and too  _different_  to fit in with the others. Too normalized with his interactions with Dean.  
  
“Wherever it comes from,” Dean mumbled from the side, keeping an ear on their conversation at the same time as he ate his food and kept an eye on the restaurant, “it’s saved my hide more than once. Knowing when someone else is around, even if they’re out of sight, has to be the best way to counter an attack.”  
  
Oscar settled behind the menu again, trying not to drop all of his food as he leaned back and relaxed as much as he could. He couldn't help but think that it would be so much easier on him if he had an ability like Sam's. "Maybe you would have got that ability anyway," he mused, taking a bite of his eggs. The warm food stole his attention away for a moment and he sighed. It was  _good._  
  
"Either way I guess you're putting it to good use." He offered a faint smile, privately glad that Sam had some kind of advantage over the frightening enemies he went up against. His friend was brave, but the world was so  _big._  
  
Sam bobbed his head in acknowledgement. “We always figured it was part of my curse, or part of our size. Since humans can’t lift as much as we can, relatively. And humans don’t really  _have_  abilities like that.” He glanced up at Dean speculatively. It was hard to imagine an ability like that on a human. It would mean the smaller people could be tracked down effortlessly when the human thought they were alone.  
  
“Any advantage we can get,” Dean said around his food. Years and years of living with a downsized brother had him well acquainted with  _that_. He was forced to see any little animal or child as a possible threat, and remained at the ready to scoop Sam to safety at any time.  
  
"Hmm. You got pretty lucky, wherever it came from," Oscar replied absently. He found himself wondering if more people their size were supposed to end up with an ability like that. Oscar had never met anyone else who did, but then again there had to be a lot more hidden in other places. He doubted he'd ever find out the answer to the question if even Sam and Dean hadn't. They weren’t stuck in one place like he always had been.  
  
He made his way through more of his breakfast, occasionally washing it down with more of the sweetened coffee from his aluminum cup. By the time he was full, there were barely crumbs left to tuck away in a scrap of cloth in his bag, and his hands were oddly shaky. He paused to stare at his hand visibly shaking after he closed up the flap of his bag. "Coffee really does this to you?" he mused aloud, amazed by the effect. He felt like he could get up and dash anywhere in seconds.  
  
Sam tried to hide a smile. “Well… maybe not so much once you get used to it. It wakes you up, and gives you energy. Since you haven’t tried it before, it’ll hit you harder. You’ll probably have energy all day.”  
  
Beyond their cubby, he could hear Dean paying the bill, and stood to get ready to go. Once the thudding steps of the waitress walked away, Sam stepped out from behind the cover of the menu. He didn’t feel anyone watching aside from Dean, and paused to briefly survey the table. There was already a tip tucked under the salt shaker, and Sam had to shake his own head in resignation when he saw a phone number scribbled out in blue ink and letters bigger than his boot.  
  
“Gonna take her up on it?” Sam sassed his older brother.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes and stretched out a hand between Sam and Oscar. “Maybe I’ll have time once you track that werewolf down, pipsqueak.”  
  
Oscar snickered quietly. Even knowing them and being friends with them when they were kids, it was so strange for him to see a human, a  _giant_ , getting along and being so careful with people so small. It made him wish that they'd be able to stick around longer than the few days they needed to catch a werewolf, but that was dangerous thinking. Getting his hopes up had been a bad idea last time.  
  
He climbed onto Dean's hand, still glancing at his shaking hands once in a while. They didn't let up, and he noticed that his heart was fluttering faster than usual, too. It made him more aware of his surroundings. "Is it hard to track werewolves?" he asked, thinking about what very little he knew. Even that was only from glances at a TV here and there.  
  
Sam shook his head as they were lifted off the table. A brief glimpse of the restaurant was awarded them before Dean’s hand cupped them against his chest and the pocket where they could hide. “It shouldn’t be hard if it’s a werewolf.”  
  
He paused in his explanation to dangle his legs over the edge of Dean’s hand and drop into the pocket first. From there he’d be able to help Oscar climb down without tumbling into the depths. “Once we’ve checked out the bodies, we’ll stake out where the attacks happened. I’ll find a place to hole up in hiding with a phone and message Dean if I see anything while he stakes it out himself. He’ll be ready at a moment’s notice if either of us spots anything.”  
  
Oscar took Sam's hands to slide into the pocket after him. He wasted no time getting out of sight, especially since he was hyper aware of the sounds filling the room around them. Too many humans were sitting and chatting and enjoying their meals, but Oscar never heard anyone shriek out in alarm. He was grateful for the cover.  
  
He stared straight up to look at Dean and make sure nothing had the human on alert before settling back down in the corner of the pocket. Oscar fell still, as much as his jittery hands would let him, and let out a sigh; they were back in hiding. "It's ... it's a good system, I guess, watching all angles," he admitted, his eyes wide anyway. "You probably don't need to be told, but be careful anyway."  
  
“We always are,” Sam promised with a grin. “Really, my favorite time we staked out a place was when Dean pretended to be drunk on his phone. The creep had no way of knowing I was on the other line telling Dean exactly where he was. He was more than a little shocked when Dean got him without having to turn around.”  
  
They’d really managed to become a team, despite all the odds against them. Sam was proud of the way they fought together. Other hunters were hard pressed to keep up with Dean, and it was all because of his ace in the hole.  
  
 _Or in a pocket_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are growing more chill between these old friends, thanks to food and a successful trip to the diner. :heart: And a few more revelations for wee Oz
> 
> ***There will be no chapter posting on Sunday, I will be on hiatus from 8/18 to 8/21.***
> 
> **Next:** August 23rd 2017 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	12. On the Hunt

The trip back to the motel was uneventful. Oscar relaxed in his corner of the pocket as soon as Dean left the diner. He trusted his friends to look out for him, but a lifetime of instinct couldn't be denied, and being around so many humans unsettled him. With the sway of Dean's steps and the food filling Oscar's belly, he nearly dozed off where he sat.  
  
The sound of another door opening brought him back to awareness, and Oscar stretched his arms over his head in their small space. "Back home," he muttered, glancing up.  
  
A thought struck him and he smirked at Sam. "Isn't it crazy that you guys checked into the same room you had way back when you were here? What are the odds?"  
  
Sam looked rueful. “Probably pretty shitty, based on our normal run of luck,” he admitted. Him getting cursed, finding Oscar that first time only to lose their chance to help him the same way he’d helped them…  
  
Dean reaching into the pocket cut off the gloomy thoughts, and both of the smaller guys let themselves be gathered up by the hunter. Sam made the action seem far more run-of-the-mill than Oscar could, after half a lifetime of living with a giant older brother.  
  
They were let down on the cover of one of the expansive beds in the room. The surface of the bed was soft to land on as Dean darted off, grabbing some clothes from one of the chairs. “We should head out in a few!” he called over his shoulder as he went into the bathroom. “Got an appointment with the coroner!”  
  
Sam waved him off and turned to check on Oscar. “Guess that’s our cue,” he said dryly. “You… gonna be okay on your own today?”  
  
Oscar grinned. "I'm sure I'll find something to do," he replied, waving a hand dismissively. He'd already stashed away food in his bag for the day, so he thought he might be able to skip making rounds of the rooms. "There's always something."  
  
He paused to look up and gaze around the room. Everything loomed so far away, and the open space felt like a physical thing that tried to impress upon him how out of place he was. Oscar sighed quietly. "I'll probably head back into the walls once you guys take off. You can come find me, if you want. Before you go fight your werewolf or whatever."  
  
“Just don’t go vanishing on us, or we’ll have to track you down,” Sam warned with a grin. “And I’m not talking me. I’m sure Dean will come searching for you if he has to. He’s as determined as they come.” He grew quiet, thinking about the life Oscar lead at the motel. “And be careful, okay? I know how dangerous it is around here for you.” He hated thinking about the risks Oscar had to take just to get something as simple as some food.  
  
 _This time we’re not going to just abandon him. We’ll find a way._  
  
Dean came out of the bathroom in a suit, trying to straighten his collar. “Ready to go, pint-size?”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s  _Sam_ ,” he said pointedly as he took a step towards the edge of the bed nearest Dean.  
  
“Whatever, pipsqueak.”  
  
Sam’s annoyed glance was lost on the older hunter as he held a hand out. Sam climbed on and flashed Oscar a confident grin. “See you around.”  
  
“Don’t forget we’ve got a date with dinosaurs, Oz,” Dean chimed in as he straightened. “You better not try standing us up.”  
  
Oscar shrugged in mock exasperation. "I'll set an alarm," he quipped, his head tilted back to keep Dean's face in his sight. He looked especially different in the suit. If Oscar caught a glimpse of him from the floor without seeing his face, he might not think it was the same human.  
  
"You know where to find me," Oscar added, even as the brothers were turning away from the bed to make their way out of the room. He didn't wait for them to leave before walking briskly towards the edge so he could climb down. He didn't want to be all alone out in the open if he didn't need to be.  
  
In the end, they were gone before he could even make it to the floor. Oscar treated it like another supply run after that, hiding under cover when he could and darting across the floor when he had to. He only let himself sigh and relax when he was back in the vents and on the way home.  
  
He thought heavily of the events of the morning, and remembered with a frown that all of his things were stacked up high.  _Right. Found what I'll do first,_  he thought ruefully.  
  
Breakfast sat comfortably in his belly, the first breakfast he'd had in a long while. Oscar's indulgence in a morning meal was exceedingly rare. Most of the time, he couldn't afford an extra meal a day, and he hated trying to sleep hungry. Ever since he was a little kid, he hated the feeling.  
  
When he got back home, he fell with a huff into the ringbox that he used as a comfortable chair, and let his bag slide to the floor. Oscar was already tired, and his pensive mood left him lethargic.  
  
He peered around the tiny hovel of a home. The curtains in front of the pantry were the same ones that Sam had seen when they were kids, and it showed in how worn out and threadbare they were. Dust was kept off most surfaces, but occasionally a vibration from one of the rooms nearby would shake more down. All of the cobbled together furniture was old and well worn. The spools Oscar used as chairs were still nearly too tall for him.  
  
There was a morning like this one a long time ago that he thought he wouldn't come back here. Oscar had hoped to leave with Sam and Dean then, no matter how scary their dad turned out to be. He'd closed the door thinking it was the last time.  
  
But it wasn't, and now here he was. Oscar clenched his jaw and thought that he simply couldn't afford to get his hopes up like that again. This was his home, and it was destined to always be. He wouldn't come back to it downtrodden and forgotten again after thinking he'd leave. He couldn't take that again.  
  
With a sigh, Oscar picked up a half-done swatch of cloth that he had begun to weave. With dexterous fingers that were long since used to the activity, he set to work making cloth that he could use to make new clothes.  
  


* * *

  
Feeling daring, Sam caught the edge of the pocket, stretching overhead.  
  
Dean was chatting with the town coroner, trying to find out everything he could about the dead bodies that had been found without putting up any red flags about the legality of his own badge for the FBI.  
  
Not easy, considering the questions he shot at the coroner.  
  
"Were all the bodies found like that?" came the rumbling voice overhead. Sam saw Dean's arm moving out of the corner of his eye, and ducked further down into the pocket before he realized Dean was just going to lift up the cover on the body.  
  
Dead bodies, missing organs. Just another day in the life of a Winchester.  
  
Sam wasn't even squeamish about the  _smell_. It was pungent, and he could swear that a cloud of it billowed out to hit him in the pocket. The humans above weren't as affected, and didn't respond to the stench at all.  
  
The coroner confirmed Dean's question. "We think it's an animal attack. See the teeth marks here." A hand moved into sight to point out the edges of the hole in the chest.  
  
Sam watched with wide eyes.  
  
The hole was practically the size of Oscar's  _home_.  
  
"...And here," the coroner finished.  
  
"Seems a little odd, though, don't it? Finding a body with  _just_  a heart missing? Wouldn't an animal go for more?"  
  
There was a sound of agreement from the other man, but Sam didn't stay up on the pocket to listen anymore. He released the edge, falling down to the bottom and sliding into the lower corner. A tingle had run up his neck, which meant someone else was coming and might see him.  
  
Dean took his leave moments after that as one of the police officers on the case came in to fill out paperwork. In fact, the officer that had discovered the body in a parking lot. The lot had been completely empty past the victim’s car, left well after the lot was closed to the public, which was what lead to the discovery of the body.  
  
Sam closed his eyes, mulling over the details as Dean followed their planned course of attack and started his journey to the family of the victim.  
  


* * *

  
Three long and unrevealing conversations later, the brothers stopped to grab a bite to eat. Dean finally got a chance to switch into his regular clothes, foregoing the stiff suit in lieu of a comfortable flannel shirt and jacket.  
  
All in all, Sam considered it a successful day as he found himself in hiding with a cell phone by his side.  
  
It was early in the night, with the light from the sunset just starting to fade. There had been no time to stop back and check on Oscar once they matched up the area all the attacks had happened.  
  
This was Sam's first time hiding under a  _car_ , though.  
  
The parking lot was the area the creature was stalking. It was out of the way, and from six at night to six in the morning, the security guard was gone and the cameras for the area were limited, with huge areas that were never seen. It needed an upgrade, that was for sure.  
  
Lying on the asphalt, Sam couldn't feel the vibration from Dean's feet as the hunter stalked away. Long, ominous shadows stretched over Sam’s head from the powerful muscle car he hid under. The sight of the secret entrance Dean had constructed into the Impala’s underbody was a reassurance. Sam might be out in the open here, but he had a way to safety if he needed it.  
  
Dean had his phone in his pocket, set to vibrate. It was a simple system compared to their normal. Sam would call his older brother the second he saw anything lurking out there, causing the phone to vibrate and Dean to react instantly.  
  
As far as anyone else was concerned, Dean was some random drunk on his own in a parking lot, much like the others that were killed. The perfect bait.  
  
A shadow detached from a tree that lay out of the circle of light the sole lamppost gave off.  
  
Sam's keen eyes saw what Dean's missed, and the creature that was heading for his older brother never had a chance.  
  
Punching the call button, Sam put out the notice to Dean that he was being stalked. Dean tensed, but didn't react otherwise. From what the creature could see, the man was just reacting to an unwanted phone call. The purring vibration of the phone was an excess noise that meant nothing to it.  
  
But everything to Dean.  
  
As the werewolf lunged, eyes glittering in the dark and fangs out, Dean switched from his drunken posture, whipping around. He had his gun in hand and pointed at its chest. A squeeze of the trigger and the werewolf's dark eyes widened.  
  
A concussive sound blew outwards from the gun.  
  
Sam flinched, belatedly covering his ears. Turns out being twenty feet away from the source of the sound did nothing to prevent his ears from feeling like they were bleeding. Once he’d lost hearing for hours because he was in Dean’s pocket when the guy went off.  
  
Blood spread outwards on the clothing the creature was wearing. A pale blue shirt was drenched in red in seconds.  
  
The werewolf fell over, and Dean darted towards the person.  
  
"What do you know," Sam could hear Dean murmur to himself. The elegant, engraved colt was tucked into the back of his pants as he gingerly rolled the body over. Dean glanced over at Sam, who watched from the shadow of the Impala.  
  
It wasn't safe for Sam to be out in the open at night. Owls flew on silent wings, stalking the night sky. Predators could be lurking on the ground as well, never setting off Sam's ability. It only worked on humans. Not people his own size, not animals of any type.  
  
His fallback shelter in the Impala was close by if any animals ventured near. The panic room Dean had constructed for him was easily reached with his hook. A ledge lay overhead, and all he had to do was toss his hook up and it would catch on a notch Dean had made for just such an occasion.  
  
They always had a backup plan.  
  
"It's the security guard," Dean called out as he stood and walked over to the car. "Now we know why there's so many areas the cameras don't reach." They'd parked the Impala in one such spot, keeping her out of the police limelight. If anyone noticed the security guard missing, they would need to keep their heads down so Dean didn't take the blame for the murders. That was the  _last_  thing the brothers needed to deal with.  
  
"Got a plan for the body?" Sam asked as he stepped onto Dean's hand-- and back into safety.  
  
Dean nodded. "Don't I always?"  
  


* * *

  
The motel room was welcoming by the time they returned and Dean tossed his bloodied jacket onto his duffel bag with a sigh. "What a night." It wasn't even ten yet, and they'd fought a werewolf and buried the body in a deep thicket in the hopes it would be overlooked long enough for them to skip town.  
  
Which wasn't going to happen just yet.  
  
Sam slipped back into the vents and followed the familiar path to Oscar's house. Now that the case was over, they could actually take some time to celebrate.  
  
Dean had a cooler full of beers for a reason, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiatus over, things are calm around here. Got a little deep in drama over the weekend with my family, but what can ya do. 
> 
> The hunt at last! Admittedly, not one of their harder hunts. But that's good! More time for them to work their magic on Oscar while they're in the hotel.
> 
> Only four chapters left after this one. We'll start voting for the next story next week-- Keep an eye out for the poll!
> 
> **Next:** August 27th 2017 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	13. The Bitter Past

In the time the brothers were gone, Oscar had finished weaving his uneven swatch of cloth. He'd found time to stand on one of his chairs to reach his higher shelves and move everything down to a level where he could reach again, grumbling about Sam's antics all the while. After that, he'd snoozed in his ringbox chair with a few sparse rays of the setting sun sweeping over him, leaking in through the one hole in his wall that he dared keep open.  
  
By the time he heard the faint scraping of dust outside that meant footsteps, he was sitting up and sewing his recently made cloth into shape for a shirt. A tiny shard of metal that Dean could probably blow away with a sigh was pinched in his fingers.  
  
Oscar watched his door until it moved aside, shoved by his four-inch-tall friend. As soon as Sam entered, Oscar pointed his needle accusingly at him. "You left all my stuff up so high I had to stand on a chair to get some of it down!"  
  
Sam held his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I  _said_  I’d help you fix that!” he protested, only half serious. “It’s not my fault that you went and cleaned it up before I got back!” The needle leveled in his direction didn’t stop a smile from twitching at the edge of his lips at the sight of Oscar so riled up. It wasn’t often he got a rise out of the smaller guy like that.  
  
He sidled into the house, making sure to side-step around Oscar and his almost-microscopic needle. “Looks good in here,” he added with a smirk he didn’t have a chance of hiding. “You’d never even know I mixed a few things up.”  
  
Oscar sighed and shook his head. "I've got the layout in here pretty memorized," he said ruefully before glancing down to finish pulling his thread through and stowing the needle next to the seam he was working on. His work could finish up later. Oscar was a lot faster with his sewing and weaving than he was when he was just a kid, figuring out those skills on his own so soon after his mother taught them to him.  
  
"So did you find out anything more 'bout your werewolf?" he asked as he stood from his comfortable ringbox chair and stretched. Even with his arms over his head, Oscar looked small. Then, assuming Sam had come to bring him back to the motel room, Oscar stooped to grab his cloth bag, emptied of his food spoils for the day.  
  
“We found out a lot today,” Sam replied gamely. “Dress Dean up in a suit and you can get just about anywhere. He says all it takes is confidence and people won’t question you.” He rolled his eyes. “The last time he said that, he used an ID that said ‘Bikini Inspector.’ ” Sam shook his head in bemusement. “I have no idea why people buy into what he says so easily.”  
  
At the spur of the moment, Sam decided to not let Oscar know they were finished with the case. They were going to be in town for a few more days, regardless-- so long as no one ever found the body-- and it was time to try and get Oscar to come with them. Approaching the question was the hard part.  
  
They’d never managed to ask him as kids, and because of that he’d been left on his own.  
  
“Ready for some drinks?” Sam asked brightly, trying to hide what was on his mind.  
  
Oscar raised his eyebrows, not suspecting Sam's hidden thoughts. "Sure, I guess," he replied slowly, withholding the question on his mind. He had to assume Sam meant alcoholic drinks, and Oscar had never had them before. It was hard to get to them, and if he ever did get a few drops of the harder liquor, he'd save the sterile liquid for injuries.  
  
He made sure his ragged bag was settled on his shoulder before stepping up to the door to push it open yet again. It was so strange to have someone else in his home that he nearly closed the door behind him before Sam could make his exit, too. Oscar looked sheepish, but moved past the mistake as they made their way into the dark route back to the motel room.  
  


* * *

  
By the time they reached the room, Dean was prepared for them.  
  
While waiting for Sam to fetch Oscar out of the walls, he'd taken the time to prepare for their ‘movie night.’ The thought brought back warm memories, of young and innocent children who thought they could always remain friends.  
  
The world was a harsh place to live, and events conspired to tear them apart regardless of what they wanted, but now they had the chance to make things right. Give their friend what he deserved-- a safe home, food he didn't have to risk his life for.  
  
 _Friends_.  
  
In that spirit, and with the energy rushing through him from the adrenaline surge earlier against the werewolf, Dean had gone out to refill the cooler with ice. He had the beers in a bucket of ice next to the bed so they were in reach. The laptop was set up directly in front of the extra pillow on his bed, ready to serve as seating for two guys that stood no larger than his fingers.  
  
Dean wondered absently if Oscar knew about the sequel to Jurassic Park.  
  
Spotting two figures drop out of the vent, he grinned broadly.  
  
“Hey, Oz!”  
  
Oscar tilted his head back even as he trailed behind Sam to walk further out into the open. He took a few slow breaths to calm his nerves about being away from the wall or any easy cover. He could remember setting aside those worries with such ease back when he was a kid. The habit was tougher to ignore now, but he did it. He didn't have many friends, and now that he could spend some time with the two he had, he would try not to waste it. They'd be leaving again soon enough.  
  
"Hi, Dean," he greeted, his quiet voice aimed upwards, though he wondered if Dean heard him. He wasn't used to talking at all, let alone loud enough for a human.  
  
He trudged over thick carpet fibers, worn down a lot more than the last time the brothers stayed in the room. The color had faded a lot too, but memory served up what it used to look like in a wave of nostalgia as Oscar took a few more steps. "Aren't I a little old for the nickname?" he quipped.  
  
“You can never grow too old for a nickname,” Dean asserted as he walked over to where the other two were. It never got old, seeing how  _small_  they were against the ground.  
  
Out of respect for that, Dean knelt down a few feet away to hold out a hand for them. With Sam, he would normally walk all the way up to his brother. They were used to being around each other. Sam knew Dean would always be careful, and Dean had made sure that Sam knew to  _move_  the second it looked like the person walking near him wasn’t paying attention.  
  
It wasn’t fair, but it was necessary.  
  
Oscar wasn’t adjusted to being close to a human, so Dean continued to take more care. He didn’t want to startle their old friend back to his enclosed, dark walls.  
  
After all, they had a date with Jurassic Park.  
  
“Ready for some good ‘ole school dinosaurs?” Dean asked with a smirk.  
  
"Probably," Oscar replied with a shrug, absently fiddling with the strap of his bag. He wasn't likely to be as frightened of the movie as he had been when he was just a kid. The smaller screen and a better understanding of fiction versus reality would help. "Maybe this time I'll actually understand the story."  
  
He continued forward, slowing down when he got closer to Dean's hand so he could watch carefully. Every minor twitch could be risky to him, and Oscar still wasn't used to willingly putting himself under that looming shadow. A memory of a hand hovering protectively overhead as thunder crashed outside strengthened his resolve. He stepped up onto Dean's hand with careful, halting steps to keep his balance.  
  
Sam followed right behind, his footing much more certain against the callused skin of Dean’s palm. It only shifted slightly under their combined weight, displaying just how strong the hunter was compared to them. Sometimes Sam found himself wondering just what Dean felt when he stood on these hands.  
  
As Dean’s hand lifted off the ground, Sam put a hand on Oscar’s shoulder to keep him steady. They swayed in time with Dean’s footsteps, but Sam didn’t waver in his spot.  
  
“If you have any questions, Sam’s  _more_  than happy to explain,” Dean said dryly as he held them over the pillow. They made their way off while he talked. “He never shuts up if you get him started on an explanation.”  
  
Sam huffed in annoyance and batted at Dean’s fingers from where he was standing on the bed. “You wouldn’t know what to do without me and you know it,” he shot right back.  
  
Oscar snickered quietly, once again easily entertained by their banter. He kept his eyes on his feet as he shifted them on the plushy pillow, arms held out for balance. After a few seconds of trying, he sat down with a huff. It wasn't worth relearning it all at once. He never got up on the beds for anything anymore because the risk was always greater than the reward.  
  
It was nice to be able to sit on such a comfortable surface and know for sure that there was no risk. His friends were right there to look out for him in what had become an unfamiliar, unkind environment to him over the years.  
  
"Well, I'll probably have questions," he admitted, leaning back on his hands and glancing up at Dean with a faint smirk. "So. Sorry, you'll have to hear the answers I guess."  
  
“He’ll survive,” Sam said flatly, dampening the tone with a grin shot up at Dean. “So long as he holds up  _his_  end of the bargain and shares the beer.”  
  
“I’m wounded,” Dean complained as he popped open his beer with the thick silver ring he wore on his right hand. It had been there so long that Sam took it as a part of the older hunter, just like the amulet around his neck. “Never doubt me when it comes to beer.”  
  
He filled up the beer cap with what was barely a drop of beer to him, and placed it between the two smaller men on the pillow. “Go easy, pint-size,” Dean said with a wink as he walked around the bed to his own side. “We both know what happens when you drink too much, ya lush.”  
  
Oscar leaned towards the cap, slowly breathing in the strong, sweet smell wafting over it. Bubbles clung to the bottom of the cap, easily visible through the thin layer of amber liquid. Oscar watched one float free after Dean settled on the bed, the vibrations translating through even the insulation of the pillow.  
  
"What happens when  _you_  drink too much?" he asked Sam, glancing up at him while he dug into his bag for his aluminum cup yet again. The coffee had left him energized all morning and past noon before he crashed and snoozed in his chair. He'd seen humans act pretty strange when they drank a lot of beer; he'd have to limit himself.  
  
Halfway to his own cup, Sam’s ears were aflame. “N-nothing!” he protested indignantly.  
  
Dean couldn’t stifle his laughter at that. “And by ‘nothing,’ he means he got mad at me for cutting him off when he drank too much, and tumbled into my cup when he tried to get a refill.”  
  
Sam gave him a flat look, filling up his own cup. “That was  _one time!_  ” he grumbled to the others. “From the way Dean goes on about it you’d think I did that  _all_  the time.”  
  
Oscar raised his eyebrows in an expression caught somewhere between amusement and worry. "I think it only needed to happen once. After that anyone would learn." He absently drew his aluminum cup out of his bag and pinched the edges to get it back into shape, still staring off into the space around Sam. Falling into a human's cup sounded awful, but Sam was so indignant about it that he brought a humorous feeling to the imaginings.  
  
Oscar told himself he'd stay sitting right where he was so long as Dean had a cup nearby. He wouldn't be repeating Sam's misadventure.  
  
He dipped his cup into the bottle cap to serve himself some of the beer. He caught a tiny drop that spilled over the side on his fingertips, lifting it to his mouth to taste the potent-smelling liquid.   
  
Sam smiled at Oscar’s hesitant motions with the beer. “It’s good,” he promised, taking a sip of his own. “Just don’t drink too fast.” He lowered his voice. “That’s the main reason I was off balance enough to trip into the cup. Plus, Dean’s drinking from a bottle, not a cup. We’re golden.”  
  
Dean didn’t hear the end of Sam’s talk. It was too soft for him to pick up from where he was sitting, and he leaned over to start up the movie that was on the laptop. “Keep the partying down over there,” he said to the others. “I’m listening to the movie.” The familiar music came out of the speakers, and he leaned against the back of the bed and took a sip of his beer. It was a good night.  
  
"It's pretty good," Oscar admitted quietly, his voice no louder than Sam's. The opening music swelled from the speakers and yet another bolt of nostalgia surged through him.  
  
He settled in with both hands clasped carefully around his beer while his focus was drawn to the computer. He couldn't help but notice that the screen was proportionally close to the size of the movie theater screen compared to Dean. It wasn't as wide, but it still took up a huge space in front of the pillow he and Sam perched on.  
  
It didn't take long for them to reach the first scene Oscar remembered closing his eyes for. He winced and took a bracing drink of his beer, letting the bitter flavor wash down his throat. It was a pleasant drink, and it helped distract him from the chaotic opening scene of the movie.  
  
For Sam and Oscar, the beer in their cap was more than enough to get them both drunk. Sam was at least adjusted to the beer, but his small size played against him. Unlike Dean, who could drink most of the night away with little effect, Sam would be affected after only one or two drinks, and he’d learned to live with that.  
  
Compared to both brothers, Oscar wasn’t likely to make it past his first drink unaffected. He was barely half the size of Sam,  _and_  had never had a drink before.  
  
Sam took a longer draught of his drink, enjoying the satisfying conclusion to their case and being reunited with their long lost best friend. As the scenes passed in the movie and the helicopter finally began its descent onto the isle, Sam leaned closer to Oscar. “How was the rest of the day?” Sam asked, concern on his face. Oscar had been on his own for so long.  
  
Oscar turned his head away from the screen to answer, and blinked a few times. The motion made him almost dizzy, and a light feeling washed over him that he had never experienced before. It wasn't like the feeling of hunger. It was more pleasant than that, and he suddenly wondered if he'd be able to stand up without tumbling over on the pillow.  
  
He shrugged slowly, glancing down at the beer remaining in his cup. There wasn't a lot. "I had a lotta energy after the coffee, an' since you let me keep some food I skipped runnin' for supplies." He glanced back at the movie curiously before sipping at the remainder of his drink. "Did some weaving and started sewing. Even got a nap."  
  
Dean heard the slur in Oscar’s light voice down on the pillow next to him, and had to hide a grin. “A nap? I’m impressed. I wouldn’t think you’d manage to rest with all that energy.” His own drink was empty, so he briefly leaned over to grab another beer from the bucket. His arm stretched overhead for Sam and Oscar as the pillow dipped down under the hunter’s weight, and Sam almost tumbled over from the unexpected shifting. Beside him, Oscar  _did_  flop over in surprise, barely managing to keep his cup upright and avoid spilling his last bit of beer.  
  
There was a curse from the smaller hunter, and Sam had to move fast to catch the bottlecap of beer sitting next to him before it tipped. “Watch it!” he complained up at his older brother, grousing as he tilted some of the excess beer into his foil cup.  
  
Oscar sat himself up slowly, blinking even slower than before as the motion seemed to get his blood flowing and move the alcohol around his small body faster. He heaved a sigh before finishing off his cup of beer. It wouldn't do to risk spilling it again. "Even with all that  _energy,_  I still liked getting to sleep. Sleepin' when I could be working is nice."  
  
Oscar paused with his hands around his empty cup resting in his lap, and stared at the movie for a few seconds. Then, he awkwardly lifted the strap of his bag over his head and nudged the whole container behind him like a cushion to lean against. That done, he helped himself to a cup only half full this time.  
  
" _Normally,_ " he began, the slow drawl of his voice more noticeable now. "Normally I gotta go check the room for food or supplies, then I come back and weave or sew or dust or something, there's always something. Sometimes I gotta make a trip to the office an' make sure they aren't gonna call pest control. The work is never done, really. Never."  
  
Sam’s brow pinched, reminded again how different Oscar’s life was from theirs, and how long he’d lived on his own. Both brothers at this point were hanging on his every word, simultaneously intrigued and dismayed to hear how much Oscar had to do just to simply survive.  
  
Sam shared a brief glance from Dean, and knew they were both in agreement. “Oscar,” he started slowly. “If you… y’know, when we have to leave, you don’t  _have_  to stay behind again.”  
  
His words sped up, trying to get them all out before he lost his train of thought. He might be more used to drinking than Oscar but it was already affecting him. “I mean, our friend Bobby has a place for me to stay, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you hanging around his house. And out in the field, there’s an  _entire community_  in hiding. They can fish, gather their own food, no humans around at all unless Dean or Bobby get invited.”  
  
“You’re more than welcome,” Dean finished, uncharacteristically solemn and lacking any of his normal attitude.  
  
Oscar almost laughed incredulously, but only managed a strained, halfhearted "Ha" before glancing back down at his cup. Something swelled in his chest, but it wasn't all hope and pride. Doubt and fear clawed their way through everything else, and the loneliness of over a decade threatened to swallow him up yet again.  
  
"No, that's ..." he answered with a shake of his head. It made his senses go fuzzy for a second and he blinked. He sipped at his beer and glanced over at the movie without really seeing it. "That's okay."  
  
Oscar's heart fluttered with his indecision. The offer was something he'd hoped for a long time ago and dreamed about in the time since. He'd already determined that it'd never happen. He was simply meant to stay there ... even if no one else ever stayed.  
  
His hopes refused to rise despite that ache. "I-I mean, I'm  _good_  at all this stuff. I have my house and my routine and all. Wouldn' be good anywhere else so I gotta ... stay." The last word came with a slight slump in his shoulders and Oscar took another drink of his beer, staring resolutely at the computer.  
  
Sam frowned at that, derailed by Oscar's insistence. He'd expected resistance to the idea, everyone resisted change, but not a complete and total shut down. The uncertainty in that voice told him he had to keep trying.  
  
"Oscar," Sam said, gently insistent. "Just because you're  _good_  at things here doesn't mean you can't be good at things there. You won't have to go without food. There's always people around you can talk to, even if we're on a hunt. And you'll never have to worry about pest control. Bobby's known about people our size since before I was ever cursed."  
  
A smile came to Sam's face without warning and he knew just what to say to defuse the tension that hung in the air. "I bet we can even find you some shelves you can reach, so next time I visit I can't mess up your system."  
  
Oscar paused, then allowed himself to smile wearily. He sighed and relaxed against his bag before turning his slightly blurry gaze up at Dean. "He ever tell you? Your brother moved all a my stuff to the top shelves," he complained, gesturing vaguely towards Sam.  
  
Joking aside, Oscar's doubts still ran rampant through his mind. He'd wanted to leave back then. He'd wanted to find a place where he could have food and not be afraid all the time. After his mom disappeared, Sam and Dean had felt like the answer to those prayers. Oscar had suspected all this time that they would have taken him along if they could have.  
  
They hadn't. It wasn't their fault, but Oscar had been left all alone in the world. For the second time in his childhood, he had been forced to face the dismal truth of his own situation. Now, it was all he knew.  
  
"How do I ..." he trailed off into a sigh that was tired, and frustrated with himself.   
  
 _How do I know I won't go to pack my things and come back to an empty room?_    
  
Oscar shuddered. The movie was forgotten and he couldn't help but feel their gazes on him from either side. He glanced over at Sam with an almost desperate look in his eyes as if he might find an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The past hurts to remember.
> 
> **Next:** August 30th 2017 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	14. Together

Sam softened as Oscar stared hopefully at him. He didn’t know what was plaguing Oscar about the offer, but he knew that he could help make any transitions easier. At least he  _hoped_  he could, since they both owed Oscar far more than they’d given him.  
  
Without Oscar, Sam might not have learned how to climb. He might have been trapped unless Dean or John helped him. He wouldn’t have a reliable bag at his side.  
  
With those thoughts in mind, Sam put his arm around Oscar’s slim shoulders. It was his best way of offering support. He knew Dean would want to help, but it was a lot harder for the older hunter.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Sam said with a gentle smile. “If you want to come with us, all we have to do is go back to your place. I can help you pack and carry things, and we’ll come back together. If you want to say goodbye to the others, Dean can give us a ride to the other side of the motel. You can bring them some food, if you want.”  
  
“And then, after all that,” Dean picked up the line of thought from Sam, “we’ll leave. Together. Just like we shoulda all those years ago.”  
  
Oscar wondered if Sam could feel the tension in him. He was primed and unsettled by his own emotions, especially the way they seemed so much stronger than usual. He would blame the beer. He hadn't expected it to hit him this hard, but ... maybe it was a good thing. Without it, he probably would have simply shrugged and evaded Sam's suggestions.  
  
"It's not that I really  _want_  to stay here forever," he answered quietly. "It's just. I've been here so long and I ... I always get left by myself. I-- it's hard to picture anything different."  
  
He sighed and looked down at his hands. "I packed a bag by myself last time. I guess ... it  _would_  be different. This time. If I had help."  
  
Sam froze at the mention of packing a bag.  _He wanted to go with us!_  The comment brought on a dismaying amount of guilt for never realizing and never being able to figure out how to  _ask_.  
  
“Oscar, we’re sorry for leaving without you last time,” Sam reaffirmed, and Dean nodded along with his words. The tipsy feeling from the beer had washed away with that realization, and it likely had for Dean as well. If they’d known he  _wanted_  to come with them, they could have got him to pack up his stuff sooner. He could have stayed in their room, never had to trek down that dark path all alone to be left behind…  
  
He would have been with them when John dragged them out of the room.  
  
“This time, it’ll be different,” Sam said. A tiny spark of confidence came back to him.  _He_  could make it different now that he knew. “You don’t have to go back there on your own again. You can stay here tonight after the movie, and tomorrow we’ll go get your things. Together.”  
  
Oscar glanced back over at the computer screen, remembering the movie and realizing that he didn't have any idea what had happened in the last several minutes. It didn't seem to matter; he doubted it'd make that much more sense to him regardless. He mulled over Sam's offer for a while, staring down at the dregs of beer in his cup. It was almost too good to be true.  
  
His heart fluttered at the thought. What if it  _was?_  What if he was dreaming? A thousand more what ifs crashed through his mind and he had to close his eyes for a second to stem the flow of worst-case scenarios.  
  
"It's a good idea," he conceded. "But I should sleep in my bed tonight. I can ... I can come back here to get you." The words almost felt like they echoed around him. Even as he suggested it, Oscar wondered if he would merely be setting up a reenactment of last time.  
  
“If that’s what you want,” Sam said, not about to push Oscar into doing anything he didn’t want to. “Once the movie’s over you can head back.  _If_  you can make it off the pillow.” He tempered the challenge with a grin, remembering just how hard it was to stand up on such a plushy surface after a few drinks. Dean would never let him forget about it. He took a long, slow sip of his own beer.   
  
They were on the right track. They just couldn’t scare Oscar off.  
  
Oscar didn't register Sam's challenge immediately, but when he did he frowned critically at him. While he finished off the last of his beer, he cast his gaze over the surface of the plushy pillow. He remembered it being tough to walk on, but it wasn't  _that_  hard.  
  
He put his cup down beside him so he could cross his arms. "I can make it just fine," he insisted belligerently. "It's jus' a few steps."  
  
“They you won’t have anything to worry about,” Sam assured him. He took Oscar’s cup, sharing out the last drops that were in the bottlecap between the two of them. His own cup he braced between his knees so he wasn’t trying to juggle three things at once while he worked. “We should watch the end of the movie.” He grinned innocently as he held out the cup to Oscar again.  
  
Dean slouched down in his own spot and reached over to grab the bottlecap back. “That’s enough for you two,” he shot down at them. “There’ll be more the next time.” Oscar watched the cap soar out of reach, blinking owlishly at it.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes, but merely took a sip of his cup. Internally, he was glad that mere drops to Dean was an entire drink to him. It made it easy to get more to drink when Dean wasn’t paying close attention to him.  
  
Oscar settled in to actually watch the movie, his eyes glazed over from the drink and from the recent surge of emotions. The dinosaurs on the computer screen provided a worthy distraction for him, especially as the plot became more and more nerve wracking.  
  
Oscar ended up taking a sip of his beer every time he needed to calm his nerves, and he was out before they reached the end. When that happened, he stared forlornly at his empty cup for a second before clumsily shoving it into his bag behind him. He drew up his knees to rest his chin on them to watch the rest, privately glad he'd hidden his face in the theater. He could have ended up growing up with nightmares about this stuff in between the nightmares of being left behind. Oscar didn't need any of that.  
  
The familiar swell of music accompanying the credits reminded him of the promise that he'd be able to get himself home. Oscar stretched his arms over his head. "I guess I better go t'bed," he reasoned, still more than tipsy. Stretching only served to spread the alcohol around again. Oscar didn't realize until he went to push himself up to a stand, and instead wobbled and flopped over onto his side with a noise of confusion.  
  
Dean hid a smirk at the sight of the two very small drunks on his pillow. “Lightweights,” he joked down at them as he stood and gathered his bottles from the side of the bed. There wasn’t any visible effect on him from the drinking, and he didn’t have a problem standing. It made it easy for him to walk around and snap the laptop up, getting the room ready for sleep.  
  
Sam held out a hand to help Oscar up. The room spun for him as he sat up, but not as much. It wasn’t his first time drinking, so he knew what to expect and how to avoid embarrassing himself, for the most part. There were always unavoidable moments when his head was in a fog, and he was secretly glad he hadn’t tumbled more when Dean stood up.  
  
“Beer is great while you’re drinking,” Sam said dryly to Oscar. “S’long as you don’t tumble into anyone’s drinks. After drinking can be more interesting, if you remember it at all.”  
  
"I'm all wobbly," Oscar confirmed, an unfocused frown settling on his face. Getting off the pillow had become a much bigger task. He didn't even have the presence of mind to figure out how many steps it would take. He huffed.  
  
"So I gotta sleep here," he mused quietly, looking straight up and around at the wide expanse of the room. With the ceiling and walls so far away, and the bed stretching out in all directions, Oscar couldn't help but feel extra small. He could even feel Dean's footsteps, though they were muffled by the pillow and the beer.  
  
He ended up dragging his bag around in front of himself to hold it close while he looked around. The cloth container, heavily worn over the years and patched, had definitely seen better days. It was a good anchor for him, so he kept it around. "Growing up in the walls you kinda forget how much room humans need sometimes," he mumbled, rubbing at one of his eyes. "Giants."  
  
Sam gave a half-shrug, more than used to his circumstances. “Just think of it from  _their_  point of view. They need the same amount of space as us, relatively. They just can’t help that they’re bigger than we are. There are humans that can’t even go into spaces that are too tight. They get claustrophobic and might panic if it gets too bad.”  
  
“Good thing I’m not like that, right?” Dean asked as came back over. He dropped a flannel shirt on the pillow a few inches away from the other two. “Tomorrow we’ve got all the time we need to get things settled here if we want to head out.” He crawled into bed on his side, getting under the covers. “Maybe I can even work on the Impala when we get to Bobby’s,” he mumbled drowsily to himself. “She could use a tune-up.”  
  
Oscar leaned clumsily to grab the edge of the shirt and pull it towards himself. It was thick cloth, and he could tell even as he tugged it over his legs that it would keep him warm enough with no issue, despite not having as many layers as his pile of blankets in his home. He nudged his bag so it sat beside him instead of on his lap.  
  
"Think I like the little spaces better most of the time," Oscar mused, deciding that 'claustrophobic' was far from describing him. With that said, he pulled more of the shirt closer, preparing to lie down and curl up in the material.  
  
" 't's really like the last time," he added in a quieter tone. His doubts still remained, the fears and worries he'd held onto for years. For a clear moment, Oscar was hopeful. "Except this time it's gonna end different. It's like I'm making it all up."  
  
“It  _will_  end different,” Sam promised as he snuggled down into his own corner of the thick flannel fabric. The fabric was too coarse for either him or Oscar to wear as clothing the way Dean did, but for a blanket it was warm and cozy. The perfect place to sleep when their beds were out of reach.  
  
Not to mention, after years of being small, Sam had grown adjusted to using shirts like this for beds. Now he had his own bed that Dean had repurposed from a dollhouse, but Sam was never against the shirts. They were comfortable and cozy, and what’s more, they reminded him of  _home._  Once upon a time he’d use his own shirts to sleep in. Those shirts were long gone, discarded when it was obvious that even if he returned to normal, they’d be too small for him to wear. There wasn’t enough room in the Impala to keep anything that didn’t have a use.  
  
Dean’s shirts ended up being substituted for his own, and there was a slight scent that clung to them from the hunter. It made it less likely that any daring animals that might sneak into a motel room would come bother the smaller hunter as he slept, and after spending so many years sitting on Dean’s shoulder, or in his pocket, it was a comfort. Oftentimes it was easier to sleep in a shirt or a pocket than in his own bed under a nightstand or on a bookshelf.  
  
While the two on the pillow were settling down into the shirt, Dean collapsed against his own pillow, burying his face in it. One huge arm curled around Sam and Oscar’s pillow, pulling it closer out of habit from long years of growing up with a  _little_  little brother to protect. Sam always accepted that as part of living with a giant for an older brother, and his eyelids didn’t even flutter in surprise as the surface they were laying on was bunched up slightly under the control of an arm that was thicker than either of them were tall.  
  
Oscar remembered this. When he used to sleep on a pillow as a kid, using a shirt as a blanket along with Sam, Dean would hold onto the pillow just like he did now, only back then his arm wasn’t so thick and muscular. Oscar rubbed at his eyes and sighed, thinking that he might as well accept the hazy waves of nostalgia as they came.   
  
"Alright," he mumbled absently, sure he was responding to something someone said even as he curled up on the pillow and pulled the shirt-blanket over himself securely. The thick fabric hid him from sight, and with as small as he made himself, he might have gone unnoticed if the brothers didn't already know he was there. It didn't take long for Oscar to drift off into an easy sleep occasionally punctuated with quiet mutters from whatever he dreamed about.  
  


* * *

  
Oscar wasn't fully sure he was actually awake until a muffled pain throbbed in his head and he frowned. With his eyes still shut tight, he tried to shift himself further under his blankets. His bed was unusually comfortable. He hummed thoughtfully and peeked his eyes open.  
  
Brighter light than he was used to turned that low ache into something much sharper before he groaned and shut his eyes tight once more. He pulled the flannel shirt over his head completely to hide from it while he gathered sluggish thoughts. He wasn't in his bed. He'd fallen asleep in a motel room instead.  
  
Oscar’s movements pulling the shirt around himself made it shift just enough to wake Sam. With a groan, the hunter curled inwards as he blinked blearily in the bright light of the sun. “Dean?” he mumbled, wondering who’d pulled the shirt.  
  
Sam sat up and had to put a hand to his head with a groan. A headache throbbed, and he was once again jealous of Dean’s ability to drink with fewer side effects. Especially with the few drinks he’d had the night before.  
  
Dean continued to slumber on peacefully, his face buried against the side of Sam’s pillow and all but the spike of his hair out of sight. Clearly, he hadn’t moved the shirt. There was no way Dean could hide that much movement from Sam without being noticed.  
  
The answer came as soon as he lifted up the edge of the thick flannel. “Oscar!” Sam said in surprise, memories of the night before flooding back. “You okay, bud?”  
  
Oscar peeked his eyes open and blinked owlishly as Sam came into focus. He almost thought about grabbing the edge of the flannel and hiding himself again to get away from the light leaking around his friend, but resisted. Just barely.  
  
"My head kinda hurts," he groaned with a halfhearted shrug before rubbing gingerly at his eyes. "Feels like it's full of lint." Oscar had heard humans complaining in the mornings after a night of drinking. He'd never realized this was the feeling they were moaning about. "Should I sleep it off? It'll go away eventually ..." His voice was already dipping into the cadence of one nodding off again, though he fought it with fluttering eyelids.  
  
Sam pulled the edge of the flannel further off of Oscar. “You’re probably thirsty,” he supplied helpfully. “The alcohol dehydrates you. Sleeping it off won’t be the best plan, especially if Dean gets up since he’s not exactly ‘quiet,’ no matter how hard he tries.”  
  
Managing to stand on the uncertain surface, Sam grabbed his own bag. “There’s some water under the nightstand, where I keep my stuff,” he offered. “Dean leaves it in case I ever need it when he isn’t around or he’s asleep. Since tap water isn’t the best.”  
  
Oscar grumbled something unintelligible, but water sounded like just the thing he needed. He pushed himself up, having some difficulty with the plush surface beneath him at first, and finished off Sam's work of getting the flannel off of him. He pulled the strap of his bag over his head and sighed once more, shutting his eyes against the light. It felt so much brighter with his head in this state.  
  
"Okay, yeah," he muttered. "Water's a good idea." He got to his feet, very slowly, ready to follow Sam to the edge of the pillow.  
  
He didn't make it three steps before the soft surface gave beneath his feet more than he could compensate for, and Oscar pitched forward with a gasp of surprise. He tumbled down the slope of the pillow as it became more and more prominent before coming to a sudden stop. He landed in a heap on Dean's arm, and huffed in frustration. He'd done the same thing many times when he was a kid, too.  
  
Sam couldn’t hide a snort of laughter as he peered off the edge of the pillow at Oscar, also remembering those times Oscar had done the same exact thing as a kid. Even with Dean asleep, the two smaller guys were perfectly safe around him after years of exposure to very small people at all hours.  
  
Dean grumbled something unintelligible into the side of his pillow, the huge arm tightening around the pillow and causing Oscar to scoot forward so he wouldn’t get pinned. Then, they could finally make out his grumbles. “C’mon, Sammy, it’s too early… we’ve got all day. Few more minutes...” The hunter trailed off, probably slipping back into sleep. Sam gave a fond smile at that.   
  
Some things never changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oscar certainly can't navigate pillows while he's drunk!
> 
> Vote for the next story to post [HERE](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/WS687YB)! Voting ends when 100 votes are reached, or Friday, 9/8/17 at 9pm.
> 
> Two more chapters left!
> 
> **Next:** September 3rd 2017 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	15. Moving Out and Moving On

With Dean back asleep, Sam hopped off the edge of the pillow to the bed below. “Just like old times, right?” he snickered at the sight of Oscar sitting flustered on Dean’s arm.  
  
"You think you're funny," Oscar shot back, scooting carefully to the edge of Dean's huge arm. Sometimes it still amazed him that humans could be so big, but he also kept in mind that he never had grown as tall as he wanted to. Oscar had given up long ago on his three and a half inch goal.  
  
He pushed himself off the side and landed on the mattress inches below with a bounce. It was much easier to stand there by comparison. He didn't bother to dig into his bag to retrieve his safety pin to climb down; they could easily use the bed covers.  
  
Oscar eyed the nightstand next to the bed, finally noticing the way the books were stacked on the bottom shelf. They concealed plenty of space back there. "So you make a room in a room down there?" he mused as they approached the edge of the bed to climb down.  
  
Sam nodded as he was the first to swing himself off the side of the bed. “Everyone needs a place of their own, right?” He was careful with each motion while he climbed. “Dean sets up a place under the nightstand for me at any motel. I’ve got a few things we take with us to each motel, like a bed and a desk to use so there’s somewhere I don’t feel so  _small_  all the time.”  
  
His eyes brightened at the next thought. “At Bobby’s, it’s even better. Bobby made a place under a bookshelf where no one else can get to, and I can put whatever I want back there. It’s solid wood, and carved so light can get in while still looking like a part of the shelf. It’s kept in the bedroom Dean uses when we visit. We could probably get a place like that for you set up if you wanted. Bobby won’t mind. He’s already got an entire community living out in the field.”  
  
Oscar followed alongside Sam, facing forward to make sure his sluggish hands had a proper grip on the threads as he climbed. His thoughts turned inward, musing on the undertaking he had somehow agreed to. His heart fluttered with nerves for the reminder that he'd be going to an entirely new human's home. He knew nothing about this Bobby except that Sam and Dean vouched for him.  
  
At least that by itself earned him a chance. Oscar would try.  
  
"I guess that'd be nice," he admitted. Having a place actually built for him instead of having to cobble together an entire home would help Oscar ease into the new situation. There would be a lot of different things to get used to. "And ... this other human ... he really won't mind if I'm around? T-taking food and supplies and stuff, I mean ..."  
  
“Bobby? Nah,” Sam dismissed. “He’s never said a thing when I’m around, and I’ve tried sneaking off with chocolate a time or two when no one else is awake. I figured I’d keep my skills sharp, in case I need to slip into anyone’s house anytime soon.”  
  
A thought occurred to him and he had to hide a smile as he dropped to the ground at last. “Actually, Bobby will be thrilled you don’t eat as much as Dean. When we’re around he bitches that Dean will eat him out of his house and insists on Dean getting groceries. And he’s invited the field borrowers into his house in case they’re ever short on food. So you’ll be good there. The walls are warm, there’s people you can visit if you get lonely, and we’ll be around if you need us. Just a phone call away for Bobby.”  
  
A faint smile crossed Oscar's face despite his lingering nerves and disbelief that it was really going to happen. Everything about the arrangement sounded so much easier than the way things were now. A very small part of him cynically said that if it was too good to be true, it probably was. He did his best to ignore that voice even as they reached the floor and he landed on the thick carpet fibers.  
  
"It'll be kinda weird, having the same humans around all the time instead of people drifting in and out," he admitted. The knowledge that said humans would  _know_  about him unsettled him no matter how he tried to suppress it. Oscar would have a lot to get used to, and he couldn't help but think it would be difficult.  
  
“Ah, it won’t be  _that_  bad, having Dean around all the time, will it?” Sam teased as he jumped up the two-inch ledge that lead to where he was staying for the time being. He hadn’t put it to much use aside from their first night. The covers were still disheveled. Sam didn’t see much need to clean up, considering he never had company over. Just Dean, when it was time to pack up and go.  
  
“But there  _will_  be people drifting in and out from time to time,” Sam warned. “Other hunters stop by, when they need help. There’s only a few that know about me. You’ll want to keep out of sight if anyone you don’t know is around.”  
  
Oscar hoisted himself up onto the shelf with slightly less ease than Sam. He found that he preferred the tighter space underneath the nightstand, with the closer "ceiling" and walls hiding the view of the much larger room beyond them. "I'll remember that," he answered with an emphatic nod. He didn't bother mentioning that sometimes even Dean coming around might startle him into the walls; it was much better to hide first and then find out who was there, by his reasoning.  
  
A human-scaled cup of water waited near the corner of the small makeshift room, and Oscar went over to it, digging his cup out of his bag as he did so. It was squished more than usual, thanks to his drunken handling of the bag the night before. He reshaped it and filled it with water, drinking down the refreshing liquid in a hurry. The quiet throbbing in his head lessened almost immediately as his body gratefully accepted the water.  
  
"Y'know, of all the things I imagined happening growing up, I didn't really think I'd be talking about something like this. Somehow the thought of actually having a chance to leave just never ... " he trailed off and shrugged, refilling his water. "Somehow I got it in my head that I'd always be here."  
  
Sam filled up his own cup, and sat down on the edge of his bed with a huff. “Things… change.” In his mind, he’d given up hope of ever seeing their old friend after discovering that they didn’t remember  _which_  motel he lived in. Backtracking so many motels to remember where one very small child lived, all on his own… They’d tried, but by the time Dean inherited the Impala and started hunting on his own, one  _Knights Inn_  was gone from memory.  
  
The refreshing water was just as welcome for Sam, and he drained his cup in one go. “You  _do_  get to leave, though, and you only have to come back here if you  _want_  to,” Sam quietly insisted as he started to fold the cup up again. “We can always give you a ride back if you don’t like it.” His motions with the cup grew distracted, hating the thought of letting Oscar return to live on his own, but knowing they’d never  _force_  him to stay anywhere he didn’t like.  
  
Oscar let out a quiet chuckle and drained his second cup of water. The soothing drink helped the parched headache recede a little more, and though he was still sore, he was doing better. With that done, he could put away his cup and answer Sam's assurance.  
  
"I don't think I'd  _want_  to come back here," he admitted quietly. It was a confusing truth. Oscar was nervous about leaving, but getting out of the place where he was always left behind had been a dream on his mind for over a decade now. Ever since he'd let his one opportunity slip through his tiny little fingers. "I just ... I get nervous. I know I was already like that when I was a kid. It's more now. That's all. I'll probably be fine." He offered a sheepish smile and a shrug.  
  
Sam stood and tucked away his own cup. “Hopefully having us around will help,” he said with his own sheepish smile back. Oscar was going to uproot his entire life to come with them. When they were kids, Sam wouldn’t have understood what it was like to do that, not completely. His entire life was on the road. No place aside from the Impala to call his home.  
  
“Well, we should go get your things, right?” Sam asked as he stepped back towards the light that was trying to peek past the row of books that blocked them from sight. “We might even get back before Dean wakes up at this rate.”  
  
Oscar followed Sam towards the opening, pausing before looking out. He listened to the room, noting the faint creak of the building and the distant sounds of birds outside. And, unmistakable so near them, was the sound of Dean's breathing. It was slow and relaxed, a definite sign that he was still asleep. Oscar nodded.  
  
"I guess ... Yeah. I better pack up," he muttered, hopping down from the shelf cautiously and looking around even though he knew which room he was in. Habit was hard to break.  
  
As they made their way to their goal, Oscar couldn't help a few glances at Sam to make sure he was still nearby. He didn't want to get into the vent and find that he was on his own again, as irrational as that fear was. He was so close to escaping that heavy loneliness that had weighed down every moment of his life for years. He couldn't lose the chance now.  
  
Contrary to Oscar’s fears, Sam was still at his side when they reached the vent. And as they journeyed into the depths of the motel for what was hopefully Oscar’s last trip home, Sam remained by his side. The small hunter’s eyes were bright and alert the entire time, seeing so much in there that he missed as a child before his eyes began to adjust to the darkness in the walls.  
  
Motes of dust drifted lazily into circles as their passage disturbed the still air. Until the vents started up again, those same specks would continue on in their chaotic fashion, oblivious to the world outside. Exiting the vent, dark structures of wood rose up into the air over their heads, fading out of sight what looked to be hundreds of feet in the air but in reality were closer to twelve feet.  
  
Sam stayed next to Oscar the entire time, within sight. He mirrored Oscar’s quiet caution as they approached the little home in the walls, on guard with the knowledge that other humans wouldn’t treat them the way that Dean did.  
  
Oscar pushed his door open, shoving the block of wood aside with little effort. He was used to its weight, and every line and nick in the wood. He'd known it for his entire life, and this was the last time he'd be pushing it aside. There was a lump in his throat as memories of years that ran together all washed over him as they walked inside.  
  
His cobbled together table and the spools sitting next to it as chair. The ringbox he used as an armchair. The shabby curtain in front of the pantry. Even the shelves, built by someone else and too high for him at their highest levels, would be stuck in his mind's eye. He wouldn't be here anymore. This time, it was Oscar leaving the place behind.  
  
He took a slow breath in, and let it out just as slowly. "Okay," he said, gathering himself and shaking out of his short reverie. "I guess I don't need to take all the food..." even as he said it, the words felt so strange coming from him. Oscar had a decent supply built up, and the thought of not taking it was almost anathema. Many of the supplies on his shelf, found on various outings, wouldn't need to come with him, either.  
  
In the end, he went to his ringbox and picked up the sewing he'd left there the night before, folding it up and retrieving the needle with care. He pulled aside the worn cloth cover that hid the simple foam of the box and retrieved two spare needles from the cushion. "These are tough to make, let's hope they don't blow away."  
  
Sam looked at the tiny needles, amazed at how precise they were. Dean wouldn’t even be able to  _see_  tools of that size, but from the needlework Sam could see, Oscar put them to good use. He could remember Oscar mentioning making clothing of his own back when they were kids, telling the brothers what he did when they weren’t around, but Sam still had never envisioned  _how_  small they’d need to be to make such delicate clothing.  
  
It made sense, considering how small normal needles were back when he was a kid. These days, those needles would stretch to half his height.  
  
“Here, we can keep them in my bag,” Sam offered. His bag was less threadbare than Oscar’s, making it less likely that he’d lose any of the delicate instruments.   
  
Oscar paused, then nodded. He didn't want to risk losing any one of his sewing needles. Making a new one was possible, but very very hard to do. He carefully pinned them through a swatch of his current sewing project and folded it neatly around them so they'd be well insulated and less likely to fall through anywhere. He handed it off to Sam and said "I used to have a human-sized one around. Not sure what happened to it. Good thing I've never ended up needing it for anything."  
  
Oscar made sure Sam had the needles tucked safely away before making his way into the bedroom with its pile of blankets. It wouldn't seem like there was anything but his bed in there, but when Oscar flipped over a few layers of blankets, he revealed some spare clothes that he gathered up to fold into his own bag.  
  
One sock was missing its pair, and Oscar frowned. It had probably gotten kicked or shifted around while he slept at some point, so he half-buried himself as he searched the layers of blankets for the missing match. He emerged with the sock in hand and his hair mussed, and hurriedly put away the last of his few sets of clothes.  
  
He sat back and stared at the messed up pile of blankets pensively. Oscar had claimed that bed when his mother disappeared, and had curled up in it almost every night since, aside from the few times he slept on a pillow instead. He pinched a corner of a blanket in his hand and ran his thumb over it. He didn't need it.   
  
All the same, it was tough to think about leaving it.  
  
Sam came up behind his friend, one arm draped over his bag so there was less chance of losing anything inside. He was merely a watcher here while Oscar decided what he needed to keep and what would have to stay behind.  
  
This time, for good.  
  
When he realized Oscar was frozen in place, staring at the blankets, Sam’s brow furrowed. “We can take as much as you want,” he said hesitantly. It wasn’t like any of it would actually slow Dean down. “I can probably carry three or four blankets for you, easy.”  
  
Oscar jolted slightly and twisted around to look up at Sam in surprise. Shaken out of his thoughts as he was, he didn't have an answer right away, and he just shook his head. Eventually, he formed the words. "N-no, no, that's fine," he answered, letting go of the blanket. "I can get more later, I was just ... remembering."  
  
He paused, before lifting up one corner of the foam base of his bed. He felt his cheeks heating up and wondered what Sam would think as he saw Oscar tug an old scrap of paper out, crumpled and worn. Part of the  _SORRY OZ_  scrawled on the side facing up was smudged from many years ago when he'd spilled water on it. Oscar let the bed fall once the paper was pulled free.  
  
It was like the earnest, hasty words in the note were a promise that had finally come true. Oscar had learned patience over the years in a series of harsh lessons, but they were paying off now. Finally, he was getting what he'd wanted over ten years ago, and it brought a faint smile to his face.  
  
He folded the paper the best he could and shoved it into his bag before looking up again, glancing around. "I think I'm ready now."  
  
Sam had to blink fast to get rid of the tears that threatened him. The sight of that old, faded note brought back memories of his own. Sitting outside the vent, furiously scribbling away a message for the only friend he’d found at the same size. Dean and John arguing angrily in the room and the old hunter ignoring every word shot at him.  
  
Sam could remember the sight of hands coming at him, scooping him right off the ground and taking that note away before he was done. He’d yelled at Dean himself for having it snatched free, but Dean had seen what he missed. He’d seen that John would have taken Sam in hand himself in his hurry to leave the room and had blocked that by doing it himself. Knowing that hadn’t stopped the angry tears as Sam tried to punch his way free of his older brother, but Dean had merely grabbed a pencil of his own to finish off the note and shoved it along with all the food they had left into the vents.  
  
Then they’d left.  
  
Sam took a step back and gestured for Oscar to leave. “Then it’s time to go.”  
  
Oscar nodded and got to his feet. He cast one last glance over his messed up bed before turning his back on it. The main room of his house looked almost blurry through tears that tried to escape his eyes. Relieved, happy tears, as well as sad ones as he remembered all the pain leading up to now.  
  
Soon, he'd be traveling farther than he ever had from home. He wouldn't be coming back. As he and Sam exited his house, Oscar closed up the door behind himself as tightly as he could, pausing with his hands against the old door for the last time. If someone came to visit, they would find food and supplies they could use, but no Oscar. After everything, he planned to stay gone.  
  
The trek back to the room was quiet as Oscar looked around. Everything that he kept so carefully cleared of dust would probably be covered within the week. Signs of his presence, already so faint, would fade away entirely until even the mice would lose memory of his scent. He glanced at Sam occasionally, reassuring himself that this time, he really truly was walking this path for the last time.  
  
Sam left Oscar to his thoughts as they went, knowing how hard it could be to say goodbye. In his time as a hunter, more than one victim had to change their life. It was the way things were, and no one could stop it, but it was never easy.  
  
Oscar might not be the victim of a monster, but he was a victim of circumstance. Left abandoned to survive on his own not once, but twice, and all as a child. He’d  _survived_ , all the way to adulthood and long enough to have his old friends come back and find him.  
  
Now it was time to move on, and Sam was determined to help as much as he could.  
  
He brightened when they drew close to the room. “Dean’s up!” he exclaimed, hearing the running water in the distance that meant the shower in the room was going.  
  
"Hmm?" Oscar looked up and blinked at the light coming in from the vent. Before he even knew it, they were at the opening. The trip had passed even quicker than usual with him so lost in thought. He smiled as he thought about it. This time there was no note and hastily thrown together bag of food for him. Relief, excitement, and nerves all swelled in him at the same time.  
  
Some of his tears finally escaped, making a bid for freedom down his cheeks. He brushed them away with a sleeve before climbing out into the open to wait for Dean. He was practically giddy. Years of dwelling on his abandonment were over. Oscar would have things easier now.  
  
"I can't believe you talked me into this," he quipped, looking up at Sam. "I don't think it'll sink in for at least a week. I guess ... it's a good thing you wandered in.”  
  
“It’s a good thing you were in the room, too,” Sam replied. “If you weren’t trying to find supplies, we never would have thought we were so close. I’m sure you wouldn’t have come close once a guy Dean’s size was staying here.” He gave a slight wince, knowing that Dean’s size would always make him look more dangerous than he was for the smaller people that shared the world with humans. Even when he  _wasn’t_.  
  
Dean’s careful handling, even when he snatched Oscar right off the ground, was a prime example of that. There weren’t many humans who could manage that so smoothly. Sam could attest to that, having been snatched up by more than one person before. He disliked the need to have anyone but Dean, or Bobby, hold him.  
  
The bathroom door swung open in the distance, and Dean strode out, toweling his short hair dry. He tossed the towel back over his shoulder into the bathroom before looking up and spotting them. A simple glance and Sam could feel the familiar, comforting tingle on his neck come back.  
  
“Hey guys!” Dean greeted. He was strangely chipper, and Sam cast his eyes about until he saw a cup of coffee left on the table.  
  
 _Figures._  
  
“We can head out in a few,” Dean shot at them as he went to the sink to finish up. “I just need to get my boots on and stuff packed.”  
  
Oscar shuffled his feet absently. The feeling of Dean's steps crossing to the sink wasn't lost on him, even though Dean was still just in his socks. He smiled sheepishly at the ground. "Yeah ... I probably would have avoided the room," he agreed. "I've gone into occupied rooms before because sometimes that's when the best stuff hasn't been vacuumed up yet, but not very often." Oscar's stores might have been a little low, but he was by no means desperate lately.  
  
A few coincidences had given him the chance to never have to be desperate again, something he was increasingly grateful for. A sudden thought made him smile again. "I guess this means there's time for some catch up lessons to make sure you stayed sharp without your teacher around," he quipped. "Maybe when we get there."  
  
Sam grinned at that, remembering more than one time they’d had Dean running around the room trying to hold his hands under them when they found new places to climb that he didn’t think were safe in the  _slightest…_  Like the curtains that draped down in front of the tall windows.  
  
“Why wait?” Sam said gamely as he pulled his powerful three-pronged hook out of his bag, challenge glinting in his eyes. “I say, last one to the coffee has to snitch it from Dean’s cup!”  
  
And without waiting for Oscar to reply, he darted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam isn't going to let Oscar go it alone ever again.
> 
> Vote for the next story to post [HERE](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/WS687YB)! Voting ends when 100 votes are reached, or Friday, 9/8/17 at 9pm.
> 
> **Last:** September 6th 2017 at 9pm est
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


	16. New Beginnings

Oscar gasped and took off after Sam in a stumbling start. His legs were shorter, but he wasn't completely left in the dust by his tall friend; Oscar had a lot of practice with sprints. As he ran, he dug his safety pin and thread from his bag, closing it hastily so he wouldn't lose the stuff he packed up for the trip.  
  
He uncoiled the thread as he ran, determination driving him to at least  _try_  despite Sam's head start. His safety pin sprang open easily, glinting dully in the light from overhead. He prepared to throw it before he even skidded to a halt at the table.  
  
Without paying attention to Sam, Oscar tossed his pin upwards and caught it on the edge of the table, teasing it into place with far more speed and confidence than he'd had as a child. It was practically second nature to him. He hauled himself off the floor and began his climb.  
  
Sam’s own hook caught in time with Oscar’s, the three prongs making it catch onto the edge much easier than his old safety pin would have. He’d never had Oscar’s touch with it.  
  
After so many years getting around on his own, climbing was second nature for Sam as much as it was for Oscar. His longer limbs made his ascent slightly faster, though he lost time when he glanced over to see where his opponent was.  
  
Neither of them acknowledged Dean as he shuffled over to the table in his socks, peering down at their contest with a grin. “Just like old times, eh?” he chuckled as he watched the tiny arms going hand over hand, the feet pinching the thread between them as they went. Both were completely focused on their match, and ignored Dean as they went.  
  
Oscar managed to gain on Sam at some point, and for a while he kept the pace with him. Even with an audience, he kept his focus on the task at hand to avoid slipping and plummeting to the floor. He knew Dean would likely be able to catch him, but the embarrassment might just do him in anyway.  
  
Eventually, though Oscar climbed fast and efficiently, Sam's longer limbs won out and regained him a lead. Oscar frowned faintly and kept going. It wasn't his fault he was nearly an inch shorter than Sam. In the end, he reached the edge of the table a second after Sam did.  
  
He hauled himself over the side quickly, not even bothering to run towards the cup of coffee that was their goal. Snitching something from it wouldn't work so well with Dean standing there, anyway. "I guess a few lessons stuck after all," he said between quiet breaths of exertion.  
  
Sam managed a breathy laugh, having thrown his all into the race. “I was  _barely_  ahead of you, so I’m not the only one that remembers his lessons,” he shot back, tucking his thread and hook back where it belonged. He was careful to leave the fabric with Oscar’s needles folded inside carefully at the bottom.  
  
“Sammy better watch out, otherwise he’s not going to be the fastest climber at Bobby’s anymore,” Dean chuckled as he reached out and folded his hand around his coffee mug.  
  
“Hey!” Sam protested as he lifted the coffee away. “Not sharing today?”  
  
Dean arched his eyebrows up at them. “You doubt me?” he asked in a fake-injured tone of voice. He nudged aside the creamer that was left near the coffee maker, revealing a small bottlecap left on its own.  
  
“You better not hog all the coffee,” Sam grumbled as he stalked over to get himself a drink before they left.  
  
Oscar snickered quietly, trailing after Sam to investigate the coffee Dean had left aside. The smell filling the air was familiar to him after years of living in the motel. If the humans in the office weren't brewing it, someone in the rooms was instead. He closed up his safety pin once more, stowing it in his bag as he walked and closing it up with a light pat. It was the same pin he'd had when Sam met him; he'd never gotten too heavy to use a pin to climb.  
  
"I didn't even have to steal it," he quipped, indicating the coffee as he sat down on the table top nearby. He watched as Sam mixed cream and sugar into his allotted bottle cap. "I'd call that a win for me."   
  
“Next time,” Sam said, smirking at the confusion on Dean’s face up above. When the coffee reached the right coloration, he pushed it in between him and Oscar to share.  
  
The older hunter drained his cup and left it on the edge of the table. While the other two had their morning cup, he gathered up his supplies scattered around the room. Sam’s small bed and desk were gathered up with far more care than Dean’s own clothing, carefully tucked away into their own box so Sam wouldn’t lose anything from the desk drawers.  
  
In no time at all, the only sign that anyone had stayed in the room was the rumpled bed, with a duffel left on the corner, and the sight of two guys sitting in the center of the table. Dean came over and held out a hand. “Ready to blow this joint?”  
  
Oscar got to his feet, still nervous about the journey ahead of him. He'd never even been in a car before, but he wasn't on his own, and he was leaving a harsh life behind for a better one. His resolve didn't waver even as his apprehension told him to dash back to the walls immediately.  
  
"I think so," he replied with a faint smile, approaching Dean's hand with steady steps, each a little more confident than the last. He was ready to never look back. He might miss things about the place from time to time, but Oscar knew he'd never miss the constant buzz of worry. "Everything I need's all packed up, so ..." he shrugged before finally stepping up onto Dean's hand. "I guess that's it."  
  
“Well,” Dean said as Sam stepped up next to Oscar on his hand, “then all that’s left is a few minutes in the pocket.”  
  
He lifted his hand away from the table so he could see them at an equal height for a moment as he finished talking. “Once we’re in the Impala, you can both join me on a shoulder. We’ll put this place in the dust.”  
  
Sam glanced at Oscar as they were lowered down next to the chest pocket and Dean propped open the pocket. “Did you want to say goodbye to anyone?” he asked gently as he swung his legs off the edge.  
  
Oscar mimicked Sam and shrugged. "Not really ... if they knew the reason I'd be saying goodbye they wouldn't want anything to do with me, anyway," he admitted with a sheepish smile. He'd always been something of an enigma to the folks on the other side of the motel. They'd never even found out he was living on his own until months after his mom was gone. By then, he was well used to doing things by himself, even if it was hard.  
  
"They might come and visit and if they see the evidence that I left, they can probably use the food I left. Maybe use the house." With that reasoning behind him, Oscar slipped forward to land in the pocket, managing slightly more grace than last time with the motion. He pressed himself into the corner to make room for Sam, clutching his bag close.  
  
Sam joined him in short order, staying in his own corner to keep from dipping the bottom out from under Oscar with his greater weight. The flap dropped down and covered up the opening of the pocket to block them from view.  
  
Now, if anyone was to glance at Dean, they’d just see some drifter in a jacket. Sam and Oscar were concealed by folds of fabric, like they didn’t even exist.  
  
To most humans, they might as well  _not_  exist. The important people out there wouldn’t let them down. Like Dean, and Sam knew that Bobby would be the same.  
  
The swaying strides of the hunter started up as Dean headed for the door. There was a brief jostling as the hunter scooped up his immense duffel bag and tossed it over his shoulder. The guns clattered around inside until they settled, and then the door opened.  
  
Sam glanced over at Oscar as they left. “You’ll like Arthur and Alyssa,” he supplied helpfully. “They won’t make you feel like the odd one out. Considering they accepted  _me_ , with Dean and Bobby around most days I came out to visit, they’ll welcome anyone in as family.”  
  
Oscar nodded. He hadn't put much thought into the smaller folk already living near Bobby's.  _Outside._  Seeing it would probably be amazing all on its own, though Oscar wasn't sure he'd have the bravery to actually live outside like they did. It had to be a community of very tough people to make it work out there.  
  
"I don't meet a lot of new people," he mused. "Hope I can make a good first impression." Oscar could see himself falling silent after he met these new people, out of pure shyness.  
  
Soon enough, there was another tilt of the pocket that forced Oscar to grip the sides to avoid sliding into Sam. Metal creaked, and then a door slammed and cut off the sounds of the great outdoors. Oscar knew somehow that they must be in a car now, and stared upwards curiously.  
  
"We're actually going," he muttered, before shifting around to get his feet under himself to stand. The edge of the pocket was above his head, so he reached up to grab it to haul himself up.  
  
Before they could actually reach the top, it opened up and let light spill inside. Dean peered down curiously at the two in his pocket. “Figured you both might want a better point of view,” he chuckled as he saw them blinking in the light. “No one’s around. They’re all either sleepin’ in or already left.”  
  
Sam took the initiative to scramble up, glancing around the car briefly before scaling up to Dean’s shoulder. “Try not to jam the brakes too hard this time,” he snarked up at his brother, half-serious. It wouldn’t do to toss Oscar off the first time he got to ride with them. Although Dean  _had_  proven how fast his reflexes were more than once.  
  
Glancing down at the pocket, Sam gave Oscar a wave. “There’s plenty of room up here!” he called down.  
  
Oscar raised his eyebrows, before following at a slightly more cautious pace. He was caught between staring around at the car and the completely new sights it offered, and focusing on climbing a completely new surface. There was a sway in time with Dean's careful breathing, though thankfully it wasn't enough to jar Oscar off.  
  
He made it to the shoulder with a quiet huff, scrambling around to sit up. He remembered sitting on Dean's shoulder as a kid, and found himself scooting a little closer to the collar. Just like back then, he wanted to make sure he had something to grab onto if he got jostled.  
  
He glanced around the car and through the windows, cautious and alert and intrigued. His heart pounded and his breathing came faster than normal. Oscar's nerves were alive as they recognized the novelty of the situation.  
  
"A-alright, then," he said, gripping the fabric beneath him for security while he glanced around. A smile slowly appeared on his face as he stared at the closed motel room door. "Let's go."  
  
The engine roared to life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A regular day for Sam and Dean is now the beginning of the rest of Oscar's life, away from Knights Inn and with his only two friends!
> 
> Jacob in Wonderland won the poll, so hunker down and prepare if you're anticipating the horror story roller coaster ride!
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any questions or ideas about the story, or if you're just curious about what we're up to right now, hit up http://brothersapart.tumblr.com!


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